My Own Saviour
by SeveralSunlitDays7
Summary: Having defeated Voldemort after fifth year, Harry is back at Hogwarts. Due to Snape-y circumstances, Harry ends up partnering Malfoy in Potions, where he is finally shown the real Draco. Draco treads deep waters as he learns the truth behind Harry's past.
1. Luck of the Draw

**A/N:** This is AU, so I thought I would put a brief basic outline here. This is set in sixth year, and will be kept close-ish to how sixth year in the books was run. Not the events, but how the year was set out. In this story, Harry defeated Voldemort over the summer after fifth year. Not at the ministry. That was really just a catalyst to the Final Battle. The Battle was very similar to the Final Battle in Deathly Hallows, obviously minus the horcruxes, but this time I get to decide who lives and dies. Snape is alive, Slughorn doesn't exist. Dumbledore is alive.

Death Eaters, Voldemort, all that really isn't relative to my story, so they'll probably get a brief mention and that will be it. Oh and Molly still killed Bellatrix, because Molly is a BAMF.

Over the summer, before and after the Battle, Harry stayed at the Weasleys.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own anything in the Harry Potter universe except for a few pieces of awesome merchandise.

**Summary:** Having defeated Voldemort after fifth year, Harry is back at Hogwarts. Due to Snape-y circumstances, Harry ends up partnering Malfoy in Potions, where he is finally shown the real Draco.

**Warnings:** a bit of clichéd plot, graphic scenes of rape (later), graphic scenes of malexmale sex (later). If you don't like gay sex, go away and take your homophobicness elsewhere. This is Drarry. This will be top!Draco. I'll put warnings at the top of the chapters with the rape scenes, but it's your own choice to read it, I'm not putting up giant labels yelling "this is it here, don't read this bit if you can't handle it!" in the middle of a chapter.

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><p>Professor McGonagall tapped her glass with a fork, and the hall of students turned to look at the staff table, where Dumbledore was just standing up.<p>

"Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts!" said the man as he smiled broadly, flinging out his arms. "I would like to remind you all that all products of Weasley Wizard Wheezes are banned, as well as many of the Zonko's items. To our new first years, and to several of our older students – "

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes made contact with Harry's, before he proceeded.

" – the Forbidden Forest is out-of-bounds. Students are encouraged to report their names to their Heads of Houses if they want to try out for the house Quidditch teams. First years keep close to the prefects, and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow! Pip pip!"

The hall burst into noise as everyone got up and headed to their dorms.

Harry stuck close to Ron and Hermione even as they led the first years out of the Great Hall, with Ron's usual call of "midgets," and Hermione's rebuking hit. He stoically ignored the whispers and blatant pointing from the younger and more obvious students; he had encountered much of the same on the train ride here.

Voldemort had been defeated over the summer holidays, and, as prophesised, Harry had been the one to end the reign of the Dark Lord. He didn't understand the morbid fascination the Wizarding World seemed to hold him in, he hadn't _really_ defeated Voldemort. Well, he had, but it was most definitely not because he had some secret power that had blasted Voldemort into the Realms of the Dead. It was all really a repeat of the graveyard scene at the end of fourth year. Harry had cast _expelliarmus_ at the same time as Voldemort's Killing Curse. _Priori Incantatem_ had caused the two spells to merge and explode, and the Killing Curse had backfired from the intensity of Harry's spell, leaving the Dark Lord dead by his own hand.

Harry was knocked quite literally out of his reverie by none other than Draco Malfoy, but the other boy did not even glance at him, and merely continued walking as if Harry did not exist. Harry frowned. Alright, so the war had changed everyone, Harry conceded, most of all Malfoy, but Harry didn't even get a sneer. Not one, tiny strain of normality. Harry was even a little disappointed.

Malfoy and his mother had fled to France over the summer and avoided the war, leaving Lucius Malfoy with his Lord, who was now reaping the reward of a lifetime in Azkaban.

"Git," murmured Ron under his breath as Malfoy stalked past them.

Harry once again frowned, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

As they reached the entrance to the common room, Harry couldn't help but notice the Fat Lady as she primped herself in expectation of the students. He smirked, and the Fat Lady winked at him before she shook herself and held out a hand in front of her ample bosom regally. "Password?" she asked, speaking as if she had a plum in her mouth.

"_Felix felicis,"_ responded Hermione promptly, and the first years gasped in awe as the portrait swung open, revealing the comfy inner common room within.

Hermione directed the first years to their respective dorms with brisk instructions, before she, Ron and Harry settled themselves in front of the fire in their favourite armchairs.

"Well, this year looks different doesn't it? I wonder what we'll learn. Oh, I do hope we'll start on human transformation in Transfiguration, what – "

"What I'd like to know," said Ron loudly over Hermione, "is who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor will be. Did you notice the empty chair next to Hagrid?"

"Speaking of," said Harry, changing the subject yet again, "is anyone actually continuing Care of Magical Creatures?"

Hermione and Ron looked at him guiltily. "Oh... Hagrid is not going to be happy with us..." said Ron.

* * *

><p>At breakfast the next morning, they all received their new time tables.<p>

"Excellent," said Ron, satisfied, "we get two free periods today! We'll have plenty of time to catch up on all the sleep we missed out on this morning." Ron finished his statement by shoving a large roll of bacon into his mouth, which thankfully prevented him from talking.

"Yeah but we've got double potions this morning. Probably with the Slytherins," groaned Harry, "Why is it always first thing Monday morning, potions with the Slytherins?"

Hermione frowned at the timetables. "I don't think it's only with the Slytherins, Harry. There wouldn't be enough students in the class. Remember, this is the year that everyone can change their subjects, in preparation for N.E. next year. So people like Neville definitely won't be continuing it."

Neville grumbled from across the table.

"Alright, so potions with everyone then. And Defence straight after! We'll find out who the new professor is pretty quick then," Harry concluded.

A small hand landed on Harry's shoulder, and he jumped slightly, his heart skipping a beat. He caught a wafting scent of flowers and relaxed a bit.

"Hello Harry," said Ginny, smiling as she squeezed into the small gap next to him.

"Ginny," he smiled weakly back.

Ginny pushed her luscious red hair back behind her ears and gave Harry a dazzling smile.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. She really was too close. Had she ever even heard of personal space?

It was at that moment that Ron stood up, oblivious to the wiles of his younger sister. "Well, I'm stuffed, off to Potions with the smarmy git, yeah?"

Harry let out a silent breath and stood up too. "Yeah, wonder what torture we're setting ourselves up for this year?"

Ginny looked slightly crestfallen, but Harry ignored the look.

"Later, Gin," said Ron, waving carelessly at his sister. Harry echoed the sentiment, and dragged Hermione off with them.

They waited silently outside the Potions classroom, the gloomy atmosphere of the dungeons dampening the usual first-day hype, and filed in wordlessly after Snape, his robes billowing behind him like a great, black wave.

All up, there were twelve students in the damp classroom. There were Harry, Ron, Hermione and Parvati from Gryffindor, Padma Patil, and Terry Boot, Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw. The only Hufflepuff to make the cut was Ernie Macmillan, and he joined Harry, Ron and Hermione at their table, rather than sit alone.

Harry grimaced as Malfoy sauntered into the classroom, followed by Blaise Zabini and another Slytherin Harry didn't know. Snape didn't so much as take points off the late trio, let alone look up at them. Malfoy smirked at Harry.

Snape spun on his heel to face the classroom of students, rested on his own desk behind him, and began to speak in his low, exacting voice. "I am required to welcome you to N.E.W.T level potions, despite the skills that so many of you – " his eyes lingered on Harry briefly, " – lack. This year, you will brew more complex potions than many of you have ever encountered, and I will not tolerate failure."

Snape continued to outline the potions covered in the course, until he came to the finest aspect of Advanced Potions. "This year, you will be partnered off in a Research Assignment. The assignment will be of your choosing, but your partner will not." Snape's lip curled as his eyes rested on Harry, Ron and Hermione, as they glanced at each other in dismay. "This assignment will be worth 50% of your grade for the year, and you will be presenting your research before exams. I will leave on the board previous topics students have chosen to research, and you can either take one of those or discover your own. Because of the importance of this assignment, your partner will also be your regular potions partner, so you will have time to get along if you do not know one another."

Hermione's hand went into the air, but Snape ignored it. He pulled his wand from his sleeve gracefully and with a flick, writing began to appear on the blackboard behind him, outlining previous assignments previous students had researched. He continued along the tangent of the assignment, and only when he had thoroughly covered the topic did he turn his obsidian eyes to the eager girl five minutes later.

"Please sir, how will you decide the partners?"

"Why, Miss Granger, by magical dip, of course. Unless your brain has not heard of such a common method before?"

Hermione blushed, but refused to cower. Harry silently applauded her. It had been a long time since Snape had called her an insufferable know-it-all, and she had gone through a war since then.

When Hermione didn't answer, Snape merely raised an eyebrow at the rest of the class before explaining. "Magical dip is the wizard's adaption of the Muggle lucky dip game, or drawing numbers out of a hat. It allows for a completely random, unbiased calling. I suppose you'll want me to start now?"

The class remained silent, but the air was thick with anticipation.

Snape rolled his eyes and whipped his wand back out. He made a complex waving motion, and two names appeared in the air. Harry was distinctly reminded of Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets, and he gave an involuntary shudder.

_Padma and Parvati Patil._

Snape stared at the two girls until they moved to be seated next to one another, and the rest of the class soon understood.

_Terry Boot and Hermione Granger._

_Michael Corner and Theodore Nott._

The unknown Slytherin boy sneered, and Michael immediately moved to the Slytherin's desk.

_Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy._

Harry gave a silent groan as he glanced over at the other boy. Malfoy was regarding him with narrowed eyes, and Harry took that as a sign that he would be the one to move. He nudged Ron goodbye, and he lost track of the other pairings as he moved across the classroom.

"Malfoy," he nodded stiffly.

"Potter."

Snape finished pairing. "You have fifteen minutes left of class time; I suggest you begin discussing your options."

Harry glanced at Malfoy reluctantly and frowned. That expression from before was on that pale face. The narrowed eyes, the tiny crinkling between hi s eyebrows, an absence of a smirk.

Harry hurriedly began to talk, the expression on his rivals face making him wary. "So, um, Malfoy. Any ideas?"

Malfoy smirked. "Really Potter, are you sure you _want_ any of my ideas? Could you handle the concept of using my idea, oh great and mighty saviour?"

"Don't call me that!" Harry snapped, and Malfoy's smirk only widened.

Harry glared, and Malfoy finally spoke, his eyes meeting Harry's. "Well," the blond haired boy said slowly, "we could always do something on Polyjuice Potion, I've always wanted to try that."

Harry lowered his gaze and ducked his head. "What, like, the effects of it? I'm fairly certain everyone knows the effects of Polyjuice Potion, Malfoy."

Malfoy sniffed disdainfully. "No, Potter, like what ingredients could be used to change the effects, make it last longer. I've heard polyjuice doesn't change the voice box, what if we manipulated the ingredients to change the voice?"

Harry nodded reluctantly. This was starting to sound like a decent idea. He exhaled upwards, ruffling the hair covering his forehead. "That sounds like a good idea..."

Malfoy smirked. "Of course it does, Potter, I came up with it."

"Cocky git."

"Just cocky," said Malfoy.

And then he winked. At Harry.

They agreed to meet in the library after dinner, to work on the research assignment.

The bell rang, and Harry positively fled the classroom, away from smirking, _winking_ Malfoy.

Ron and Hermione caught up with him, and Harry explained their chosen research topic.

"That's clever, Harry," said Hermione, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, well I didn't come up with it," Harry grumbled.

"Malfoy?" said Ron, and Harry merely muttered unintelligibly.

"Well, do try to get along with him Harry, your entire potions grade depends on it."

"I know, Hermione," growled Harry.

"Ask Snape for _Moste Pontente Potions_, that's the book we used in second year, it had the instructions written extensively, plus extra."

"Alright, thanks. Have you decided what you're doing yet? What's it like with Boot?"

"He's – "

"A right smarmy git. Did you see how he was looking at you?" Ron interrupted, scowling.

"And how was that, Ronald?"

"Like he wanted to eat you! Bloody pervert..."

"And what, pray tell, is wrong with him looking at me like that?" Hermione rounded on Ron, now walking backwards in front of them.

Harry tuned out his friends as their argument escalated in volume. They were on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, and they were yet to discover who their new teacher was, as there had still been an empty chair at breakfast that morning.

Harry entered the classroom before his bickering friends, and stopped in surprise. Ron actually walked into his abruptly stopped form. Harry staggered under the weight of his friend, but Ron righted them both quickly.

"Remus!" Harry shouted.

Those already in the class turned to look at Harry and began muttering amongst themselves, and he blushed slightly. He noticed Malfoy staring at him again. He scowled slightly.

"Harry, good to see you again. Sorry I didn't tell you I was teaching, I couldn't make it to the school until this morning." Remus eyed Harry, and Harry understood. Full moon was last night.

"Alright, settle down," Remus called over the class, amused.

One by one the students all slowly turned to face the front. The class was full, as Defence was a much more popular subject than Potions. Harry sat with Ron and Hermione at the back, whispering excitedly, Ron and Hermione's argument forgotten.

Remus immediately launched into a summary of the years assignments, and requirements for the exam at the end of the year, as it seemed that most of the teachers were now doing.

"... Now I know you're all aware of my affliction, courtesy of the rumours in your third year, and I want to tell you that arrangements have been made, you are all perfectly safe, I have a foolproof room and Professor Snape brews me my Wolfsbane potion every month, so there is nothing for you to fear me about."

Remus spread his arms wide to the silent class. "Yes, I am a werewolf. Professor Dumbledore could not find another teacher at such short notice, and I was quite jobless when he came to me less than a week ago."

There was a murmuring amongst the class, as though the students were trying to decide whether he would suddenly transform and try to jump them. Remus let them go on for a while longer before he continued.

It was at this point that Harry started to space out, and let his gaze wander around the classroom. The walls were already hung with what looked to be information posters. Some featured details on the monthly changes of a werewolf (surprise, surprise), there were yet more on other creatures, like Grindylows and the Demiguise. In back corner of the room was an old-looking chest with a large padlock on it, and Harry could hazard a guess that it contained a Boggart.

By the end of the lesson, it sounded like it would be an average year of Defence, if not better than the rest. They all remembered Remus as one of their best instructors.

The bell rang for lunch, but Remus called Harry back.

"I'm so sorry I haven't been able to see you over the summer, Harry. I was so busy trying to clear everything up. Dumbledore only approached me last week." He said as Harry settled himself atop a table in front of the teacher's desk.

"It's alright," said Harry, smiling softly, "this way my owls won't take days to find you!"

Remus smiled, and they lapsed into a brief silence.

"Harry, how have you been holding up?"

Harry looked up in surprise. "Since the war? Fine, Remus."

"Not the war, Harry."

"Oh."

Harry looked away. So much had happened since Sirius' death at the ministry. It was almost like it had happened years ago, but the wounds were still far too fresh.

"Alright, I guess. That first week after the Ministry was the hardest, but then the war happened and everything got pushed aside, so I don't know."

Remus looked earnestly into Harry's eyes. "Harry, you know I'm here, alright? I'll always be here. I know I'm not Sirius, but..."

Remus did not mention that he thought Harry was one of the main reasons Dumbledore had been so keen to hire him.

"I know, Remus. And thanks."

And then Harry surprised himself, and Remus, as he leant over impulsively and gave the werewolf a hug. Remus' arms came up around him, and they stayed like that together for a long moment. Harry liked this hug. It really was like hugging a dad.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Harry brought his potions things to the library. He found Malfoy already there, head bent over a desk near the back of the room, candle light spilling softly over his face. Harry observed his rival briefly as the blonde boy absently pushing a glowing lock of hair from his face, before marching over and dropping his things on the desk with a clatter. Malfoy jumped, and scowled when he saw who it was.<p>

"Took your time, didn't you?"

"I am so sorry, Your Highness, however can I forgive myself for being a single minute late?" Harry replied sarcastically as he settled in a chair opposite Malfoy.

Malfoy leant back in his chair and tucked his hands behind his head. "Your Highness, I could get used to that," he mused.

"Fuck you," Harry scowled.

"With pleasure," Malfoy drawled, one elegant eyebrow raised.

Harry shivered, and deemed the scarily light banter over. He cleared his throat. "So, do you have any idea of the books that could help us?"

Malfoy gestured wordlessly to the small pile of books in front of him. Harry noted smugly that they were all from the general library, none from the Restricted Section.

"Do any of them actually have useful information?" he asked, curious.

A tiny frown creased Malfoy's brow. "Not really. They all sort of just mention it in passing."

"Ah," said Harry, and a large smirk crept across his face. "I'll be right back then."

Harry leapt off his chair and scurried towards Madam Pince.

Draco watched as the crabby old woman scowled at Potter and the note in his hand, before ushering him into the Restricted Section, and watching over him like a hawk as he selected a book. The old woman led Harry back to her personal desk, where she checked out the book with a name and a stamp in the back.

Potter returned, looking immensely satisfied.

Draco merely raised an eyebrow again, and Potter slapped the book on the table.

"_Moste Pontente Potions_," Draco read the title, "and how exactly do you know Polyjuice Potion is in this exact book?"

"Oh, er... Hermione. And I got the permission slip from Snape at lunch." said Harry finally, as if it explained everything.

Malfoy carefully picked up the book and began leafing through its thick pages carefully. There seemed to be blood spilt on a page about half way through, and not just a simple drop. It looked like someone had _died_ on top of the book. He skimmed to the back and looked at the list of those who had borrowed it previously. Harry's name was at the bottom of the list, but only three names up was what caught Malfoy's attention. _Hermione Granger, 1992_.

Harry snatched the book back, quickly flipping to a page just before the large bloodstain. The page, written in old, cursive handwriting, detailed extensively the method and ingredients of Polyjuice Potion.

"A month?" exclaimed Malfoy, leaning over, "it takes a _month_ to brew?"

"Well of course," said an irritated Harry, "it's a complicated potion! It's not going to just take a few potions lessons."

"It's a good thing this is a year-long project then."

The two boys spent the next few hours carefully brainstorming ideas based on the ingredient list before them. Which ingredients could be replaced, what could potentially be added. They brainstormed, they sneered, they got along, they fought. In the end, they had a clearly outlined goal, and a basis to be presented to Snape the next potions lesson. They parted on sincere words of goodbye and a shared flipped finger.

Harry headed off towards Gryffindor Tower, but was interrupted by an amused voice. "You know, you two really are a contradiction."

"Hermione!" exclaimed Harry as his friend stepped from the shadows. He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed and stepped into pace alongside Harry. "You and Malfoy. You're constantly at each other's throats, you can't stand the sight of each other, and yet you can work together better than you have ever done with Ron or I."

Harry scoffed. "What gave you that notion? We were bickering the whole time!"

"Yes, Harry," said Hermione, her lips pressed together like she was trying not to laugh, "but you also wrote pages and pages of shared notes, have your topic and aim discussed, agreed upon and completely set out. Usually with you and Ron, to write that many notes requires the long availability of chocolate and other unhealthy sugary foods. My partner and I haven't even decided on what we want to do yet," she added wistfully.

"How is it with Boot, anyway? Noticed yet the cannibalistic looks that only Ron can see?"

"_Terry_," Hermione emphasised, "merely looks at me like one might look at a teacher or mentor. I look at him similarly. He's a Ravenclaw, he has a unique outlook when it comes to potions. You would have to wonder how he's survived all these years if it didn't hold any curiosity for him. The only problem is that his outlook is so dissimilar to mine, we don't agree on anything when it comes to choosing a topic."

"I'm sure that's horrible for you," said Harry, amused.

"Oh, but it is! We have intellectual arguments, and for once I can't be sure who will win, it's so different compared to arguing with Ron or you!"

"Should I be insulted?" asked Harry.

"Er... Oh look the Fat Lady! Back already, golly that was quick!" said Hermione brightly.

Harry rolled his eyes and spoke the password, leading Hermione into the common room. Hermione immediately claimed one of the armchairs in front of the fire, and began spreading out books in the air around her with a wave of her wand. She conjured a table-cushion to her lap.

"Aren't you going to bed? You just spent hours in the library having 'intellectual arguments.'" Harry said, using his fingers to air-quote the last words.

"What? No, of course not!" Hermione looked scandalised. "I'm doing some Transfiguration!"

Harry sighed, and raised his eyes skyward. "Hermione, we didn't get any Transfiguration homework."

"Oh, I know. I just wanted to read ahead a bit in the text book, see what we're doing."

"Alright then," said Harry, talking as if to placate a distraught child. "I'm going to bed, nice and early, you know. Relishing in the fact that I have no assignments keeping me up past midnight."

Hermione merely hummed in response, her eyes already focused on the book in front of her. Harry took that as his queue to leave and he trudged up the stairs to the boy's dorm.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** No flames guys, but constructive criticism would be nice. I've never written Drarry before, so don't be too harsh!

Oh, also, I'm looking for a Beta, coz I need more than my own opinion and eyes and all that stuff Beta's do..


	2. Changes in the Wind

**Warning:** this chapter contains graphic rape. And a few dirrrty dreams ;)

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><p>"So, Potter, going to play Quidditch this year?"<p>

Harry looked up at Malfoy and frowned. They were once again in the library, at their little desk in a back corner of the room. They had been silent for a good hour now, Harry realised, and he had been reading the same line for several minutes.

"What?" he asked.

"Quidditch. Playing. This year. Are you?" said Malfoy, flapping a hand around impatiently.

"Oh." Harry looked off through a dark window thoughtfully. He hadn't really thought about it. Well, he had, but it was more of a wish than a solid thought or determination. "I'm still banned from last year though, from Umbridge. I'm not sure I'm allowed to."

Malfoy scoffed. "Yes Potter. I'm sure Dumbledore won't let the Golden Boy of Gryffindor play Quidditch because a mad, cat-obsessed, pink-cardigan-wearing woman said so."

"Mad? You were the one on her Inquisitorial Squad!"

Malfoy ignored Harry's comment. "Come one, Potter, I need someone who actually gives me a challenge for the snitch!" He wheedled.

"Yeah, well so do I!" Harry retorted, and watched satisfactorily as Malfoy went into a huff and snuck his nose in the air.

"I'll have you know, Potter, that I am a brilliant Seeker, and it is pure luck that you manage to catch the snitch before me!"

Harry snorted. "What, for three years?"

"Of course!" Malfoy replied, affronted. "I am merely biding my time so I can completely knock you out of the air when you think you're safe."

"You do realise you just told me your master plan, right?"

"I did nothing of the sort!"

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"I most certainly did not!"

Harry was about to reply when Madam Pince lurched into existence beside their desk, and her face was reminiscent of a hawk watching its prey.

"Talking loudly in the library is not tolerated!" She shrilled.

"Yes Ma'am," they both murmured quietly.

"That was your fault, Potter."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was – "

"OUT!" screeched Madam Pince, her cheeks flushed with anger at the sheer audacity of these two sixth years, how dare they interrupt the peace and quiet of _her_ library!

"Your fault," Harry muttered out the side of his mouth as they exited the library.

Malfoy ignored Harry, his chin stuck out mulishly. He simply requested to meet again tomorrow night, to work on Potions.

They parted ways without another word or gesture.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry noticed that Hagrid had appeared to eat for the first time in several days, and he attempted to catch his large friend's gaze, but the half-giant studiously ignored the Gryffindor table completely. Harry glanced round at Hermione guiltily, to see her attempting the same as him, her face pinched.

Before many of the students had risen from their seats at the end of the meal, Hagrid rose and stomped out of the Great Hall. Hermione met Harry's gaze and they both simultaneously got to their feet and hurried after Hagrid, Ron tailing behind as he attempted to shove some last pieces of toast into his mouth.

"Hagrid, wait!" Hermione cried desperately, but if anything he sped up.

Eventually they caught up to him and Harry stood in the Entrance Hall doors, blocking Hagrid's escape with a raised wand.

"Move, Potter," grunted Hagrid.

"No can do, _sir_," Harry replied cheerfully.

Hagrid's eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation.

"Since when've _yeh_ called me 'sir'?"

"Since when have you called me 'Potter'?"

"Oh, very clever," grumbled Hagrid. "Very amusing, that's me outsmarted, innit? Alright then whadoyeh want, yeh ungrateful little..."

"We wanted to see you, Hagrid!" said Hermione earnestly. "You stopped coming to meals and we got piled up with so much homework – we wanted to apologise!"

Hagrid grunted, still eyeing the blocked doorway.

"Yeah," said Harry,nodding, "we wanted to apologise for not taking Care of Magical Creatures. We couldn't fit it into our timetables, Hagrid."

"Yeah, couldn't fit it in," echoed Ron, and followed with a suspicious sounding cough.

There was a short silence, before Hagrid suddenly flapped one of his dustbin lid sized hands "Ar, I always knew yeh'd find it hard ter squeeze me inter yeh timetables."

The three students beamed brightly back at Hagrid, before the first class bell rang above their heads.

"Gorn with yeh then! An' don' forget ter come visit!" he yelled after their retreating forms.

Harry smiled happily, this day looked promising, and the day had barely started. Patched things up with Hagrid, another lesson with Remus, and this time they would be learning about the Erumpent, a large beast vaguely similar in appearance to a rhinoceros.

In Potions, Harry and Malfoy planned to present their basic draft to be approved, barely a week after they had first settled on an idea. They were already far ahead of many of the other pairs, and to get it approved would mean they could start actively researching and experimenting.

The potion they were attempting to create that day in class was the Draught of Living Death. It was an incredibly potent potion, and a single drop on a person would mean their end.

Malfoy and Harry worked together silently: Malfoy chopping up the valerian roots while Harry crushed the Sopophorous Bean.

He was pleasantly surprised with how well he and Malfoy worked as a team when it came to Potions; they both seemed to instinctively understand the other. Whether it was because of their recent associations over the past week, or because they had been school enemies, constantly watching and observing, waiting for the other to make a mistake to be ridiculed, Harry didn't know.

They were soon up to the final stages, and Malfoy wordlessly began stirring the potion as per instructions, while Harry cleared up any mess they had made.

It really was uncanny, thought Harry. They had gone through an entire lesson in silence, and their potion was now turning the perfect shade of palest pink.

As Snape wandered around the room, he passed over their potion with no comment, and Harry inwardly crowed, remembering the countless failed potions by his own hand or Snape's, last year. Snape couldn't very well deduct marks from his favourite student if the potion was perfect, despite Harry's influence.

At the end of the lesson, potion finished and handed up, work station tidy, Harry and Malfoy approached Snape. His eyes bored into Harry's before flicking over to Malfoy.

"Well?"

Harry wet his lips. "Sir, we'd like to present our Research Assignment idea for approval."

A black eyebrow arched with a sneer. "Really, barely a week in? You two are more the fools than I thought."

"Professor, we'd like to show you what we've done," Malfoy pressed.

Snape sighed, and gestured for them to proceed.

Malfoy began to speak earnestly, detailing their aims and how they thought they might achieve them, what background research they had already done. When he first mentioned Polyjuice Potion, Harry thought Snape's eyes flicked back to his, but they were back to Malfoy just as quickly, and he thought he might have imagined it.

By the time Malfoy had finished, Harry would have thought Professor Snape looked mildly impressed, but he knew his teacher better than that.

"And who, pray tell, came up with this idea?" asked Snape, his eyes drilling into Harry's.

Harry swallowed. "Malfoy, sir. And we've been meeting in the library after dinner for the past week, doing research and the like. That's why I went to get your permission for that book on the first day."

"Very well, I approve. I expect to have progress reports regularly, and I expect results at the end of the year. You are dismissed."

Snape turned away from them and headed off through a door to the right.

Harry almost grinned at Malfoy in his excitement, but then he remembered he was not friends with him.

That night, Harry dreamt.

* * *

><p><em>Hands drifted up his naked torso, feeling their way along, playing with his erect nipples. A tongue soon followed to path made by hands, and Harry groaned in arousal. The sensation of another naked body pressing along his gave him pause to open his clenched eyes. He caught a flash of pale blonde hair, and held the gaze of endlessly deep, grey eyes as they sparkled with mirth.<em>

Wait, grey eyes?

_Malfoy, or Draco – no, Malfoy – resumed his task and lowered his head to a nipple, a hand tweaking the other. He bit gently at the nub, eliciting another moan from the boy below. The other hand sneaked to his cock, stroking, stroking until he – _

Harry woke up with a gasp. He sat up and grabbed raggedly at the sweaty, come-stained sheets around him as he tried to gather his bearings and make sense of his dream.

He had just a wet dream about Draco Bloody Malfoy.

Harry bent over and clutched his head, groaning silently. Why, of all the people in his vivid imagination did it have to be his school time rival? Admittedly, they had been getting along rather well for the potions assignment – but that was beside the point!

He poked his flaccid cock reluctantly, as if asking it why, _why_, before he rolled out of bed and headed to the showers. A long, _cold_ shower. It wasn't all that early anyway, and this way he could be properly awake in the morning for once, and without having to put up with four other boys at once.

At breakfast, he positively glared at his porridge, lost in his own world. He didn't hear Hermione repeating his name, and it wasn't until she slapped him upside the head did he register that she was actually trying to talk to him.

"What did you do that for?" he cried, rubbing his head.

"Harry Potter you were not listening to me!" she reprimanded, lips pursed. "I asked if something was wrong, you seem a bit out of sorts."

"What? No. Nothing's wrong. No." said Harry, shaking his head rapidly from side to side. In an effort to stall Hermione, distract himself, anything, he took a very large spoonful of porridge and shoved it in his mouth. His mouth then got very suddenly dry, and the porridge became gummy and stuck, so he was left with his cheeks bulging as he attempted to swallow.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, and he innocently loaded more porridge into his mouth, despite its already over-loaded capacity.

It was at that moment, determined to avoid Hermione's gaze, that he glanced over at the Slytherin table to see Malfoy staring right back at him. A fierce flush immediately rose to his cheeks, so he turned back to Hermione. Surely she couldn't be the worse option?

Yes, Malfoy was definitely the worse option, thought Harry resignedly as he leant subtly away from the other boy in Potions later that day.

"Potter, move closer. You're knocking shrivelfig all over the boomslang, you know they don't mix well," snapped the object of his worries.

Harry raised his eyes in a silent plea, but as usual he remained unanswered.

"Potter, for Merlin's sake, stop daydreaming!"

Harry glanced guiltily over at his partner and instantly wished he hadn't. Unlike most people, the gloomy atmosphere of the dungeons seemed to accentuate Malfoy's chiselled cheekbones and pointed nose, his slicked-back hair shining sophisticatedly. Was he just _admiring_ the beauty of his rival? He muttered a quick apology and attempted to continue to dice the shrivelfig instead of slice, as per one of their ideas.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of class, Malfoy turned to him and spoke icily: "I expect you at the library at half seven Potter, and you had better pull your act together."

Harry awkwardly mumbled a reply, but Malfoy had already left.

Soon after, Hermione and Ron caught up to him just outside the classroom. Ron slapped him on the back.

"Malfoy seemed to be in a right tizzy didn't he? Slimy git."

"Ron, don't" said Harry, annoyed.

Ron seemed surprised. "Don't what? Call him a git? Newsflash, Harry, he is one."

Harry sighed, raking a hand through his hair before tugging at his fringe to cover his infamous scar. "Just – just don't, Ron."

Ron raised his arms in apparent disbelief, but seemed to give in for the moment anyway.

As they walked towards the Great Hall, they passed a shadow with blonde hair, who watched the three Gryffindors carefully, especially the black-haired boy.

Draco Malfoy soon strode in the opposite direction, his expression thoughtful. There was something up with Potter, something intriguing. And Draco would find out. In a way, he was almost glad the other boy had seemed so distracted throughout the lesson, as it had given Draco ample time to look over his former rival. Yes, former. They got along far too well with the potions assignment to call each other rivals anymore.

There had always been something about Potter, right from the start. Something alluring, something mysterious, something dangerous. And now that Draco was spending more time with the Golden Boy, he was noticing much, much more.

Like the way his ravens-wing black hair seemed to shine with auburn highlights under the stray rays of sunlight that managed to filter through windows. Or the way the boy absently chewed his lip when he was concentrating. Or the delicious blush that rose to his cheeks every time Draco flirted with him. And it _was_ fun when he flirted with Potter.

The latest development was also very interesting. Harry Potter, defending the son of a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, and stopping his friends from insulting him? Very interesting.

Draco reached the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room and murmured the password distractedly, lost in thought.

* * *

><p>Harry shuffled reluctantly into the library later that night, and once again, Malfoy was there already. Harry decided he absolutely had to put whatever this was behind him, so he marched up to Malfoy and snapped, "Merlin, do you live in the library or something?"<p>

Malfoy glanced up and scowled. "Potter, I don't believe you've heard of this concept before. It's called _being on time_."

"So sorry, Your Highness," said Harry, rolling his eyes.

Malfoy smirked and winked at him. Again.

"What is it with you and winking?" Harry cried.

"Does it turn you on?" Malfoy practically purred.

Harry's entire face flushed a dark red, right to the tip of his ears. "What? No! I just – stop – What the hell is wrong with you?" he finally spluttered.

"You look so sexy when you're flustered, _Harry_. I should do this more often!" Malfoy eyed him lazily, a small smirk curving up his lips.

Harry sat down in the chair opposite Malfoy and let his head fall to the desk with a loud thump. Malfoy was _flirting_ with him. Definitely flirting. Harry could even feel a little twitch down there in response. _No_, he willed it away. _Snape and McGonagall making out. Hagrid in a pink bikini._

His head shot up suddenly and he glared at Malfoy. "No," he said. "No, no no no no no no no no."

Malfoy raised an elegant brow, the question clear.

"I am Potter," said Harry firmly. "You are Malfoy, I am Potter. Potter."

Malfoy stared at him for a moment incredulously before speaking. "Alright then Potter, what do you know about the properties of powdered moonshine?"

Startled at the abrupt change of subject, Harry thought quickly before answering, the blush not yet died from his cheeks. "The powdered moonshine helps to focus the body through the transformation, to create the most accurate clone of the other person as possible."

"Alright then, well what do you think would happen if we added more?"

"Probably explode," Harry muttered before he thought properly.

Malfoy chuckled.

"Gah!" cried Harry, jumping up.

Malfoy looked up at him.

"Stop – stop – " Harry flailed wildly, pointing at Malfoy with emphasis.

"Stop what?"

"Stop being friendly! Be snarky and sneery and mean and stuck up and horrible!" Harry wailed miserably.

"What am I then?" asked Malfoy, his features calm and aristocratic.

"Nice," Harry hissed under his breath.

"What was that?"

"You know perfectly well what I said," Harry grumbled.

"Well, why can't I be friendly and nice?"

Malfoy was enjoying this, Harry could tell. Just below the surface of his facade was a boy crying with laughter, making fun of him and having a jolly good time.

"Because – because you hate me! Because I'm Harry Potter and you're Draco Malfoy!" Harry despaired.

"Said Juliet to Romeo," murmured Malfoy.

Harry got sidetracked. "You know Shakespeare?" he cocked his head to the side.

Malfoy scoffed. "Naturally. He's only the best known playwright in the Wizarding World."

"Shakespeare was a wizard?" Harry repeated faintly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Of course! Where do you think he got such inspiration for all those evil witches? _Double, double, toil and trouble._ Please, I ask you."

"Right," Harry agreed absently.

Eventually, they got back to the task at hand. They spent much of the next three hours in silence, only speaking to cross-reference each other's notes, or voice another idea. Harry kept twitching and jumping at random times, and each time, Malfoy met his gaze with a smirk, leaving Harry even more flustered and unfocussed.

Madam Pince kicked them out when the library closed at 10pm, and the two boys parted ways quickly, Harry avoiding Malfoy to the best of his ability.

That night, he had another dream.

_Harry gasped as his cock was enveloped in sweet, hot, tight darkness. The mouth on his cock pumped up and down, up and down, and that tongue did things he had never thought possible. His hand wrapped itself around the pale locks, and grey eyes met his briefly. A hand dug into his hip, and the sudden sharp pain jolted him into an orgasm. _

He woke up.

Harry yanked off the sticky sheets and once again placed his head in his hands.

He was dreaming about Malfoy. Malfoy sucking him off, wanking him, enjoying his body. He was fantasising about Malfoy. About perfect, Adonis' good looks Malfoy. He could almost understand the lure of just _one_ dream about the handsome Slytherin, but two? Two meant something.

And that something said that Harry liked being sucked off by Malfoy. By a bloke.

He had only ever had one experience with a girl, and kissing Cho had been like kissing a slobbery dog. Did that mean he was gay?

Gay.

No! He couldn't be gay! It wasn't allowed!

_It wasn't allowed._

The words echoed through his head, and they brought up a rush of memories, memories he had tried so hard to forget.

_Fat, pudgy hands dug themselves into his flesh, pulling, breaking the skin, hurting, bleeding. He lay on his stomach, the fat man atop of him rutting against him. Harry lay there, playing dead, pretending nothing was happening._

_The sharp pain in his rump of course disabused him of that notion. He cried out in agony as the man he called Uncle ripped into his arsehole. The man dragged at his hips, no doubt leaving bruises, as he attempted to pull Harry's unresponsive body closer to his thrusting dick._

"_That's right boy, this is all you're good for. You filthy freak. Yeah take it. Take it whore, you know you want it. You want it every night, it's why you come begging for me, isn't it you little slut?"_

_Sometimes Vernon would make Harry join in, make Harry feel pleasure during his own rape, and it made Harry feel sick. He was disgusted with himself, he hated himself. Why couldn't he stop this, why didn't his magic?_

_Vernon left bleeding scratches down his bitch's back, and with one last thrust, he emptied himself inside the tight channel. He collapsed briefly atop the thin form beneath him, but soon he got up. Petunia would be wondering where he had gotten to._

"_Clean it up, boy, I don't want to see such mess next time I come in."_

_Vernon spat on the motionless body and left._

Harry gasped as the flashback finished. He hadn't had one of those in a while. But then again, he hadn't been to Privet Drive in a while. Over the summer he had been preparing for and recuperating from war at the Burrow.

Tears ran down his cheeks, the images clear in his mind and the dirty feeling was all over his skin like measles.

Harry stumbled blindly to the bathroom and threw up. Once his stomach was properly empty he turned on a shower and climbed in, clothes and all. He could still feel the hands. The roaming, pudgy, dangerous hands. The nail-digging, caressing, fondling hands. The water was cold, and he was soon shivering intensely, but that didn't deter him. His sodden clothes came off, and he mechanically reached for a scrubbing brush.

He had to get the dirt off.

Harry methodically started scrubbing at his skin, scrubbing and scrubbing until he was red all over, and bleeding in some places.

Once that was done, he started again.

The pounding cold water stung fiercely on his raw flesh, but he didn't care, couldn't care. Eventually he just stood there, for what seemed hours, probably was. He turned the warm water on at one stage; he didn't want to get Pneumonia.

When Ron eventually stumbled into the bathroom, hours later, Harry was just pulling his robe over the top of his school clothes.

"Blimey Harry, you're up early," Ron yawned, a hand placed against the door frame so he wouldn't fall over.

"Oh, you know..." Harry shrugged. He was fine now. It had taken hours to get all the dirt off, but in the end it was worth it. The material of his clothes rasped painfully against his skin, but it was worth it, he was fine now. Fine.

He went and waited for his friends in the common room.

* * *

><p>AN: yes, I kind of stole and manipulated a scene in the HBP. Kudos to you if you recognised it.

Also, please review! I've never written Drarry before, I've never written sex scenes or rape scenes before! I feel like I'm drowning in the deep end, so please review!


	3. The Incident With Capital Letters

Also, I'd just like to mention, if any of you out there are as desperate as I feel sometimes, I run a predominantly top!draco reccing blog on tumblr it is: www(dot)dracotoppingharry(dot)tumblr(dot)com

* * *

><p>Harry knew that it would take a good day or so before he could suppress the flashback enough to get on with his life, and his day went just as predicted. He seemed to jump around much more than usual, at the slightest touch or an unanticipated loud noise, and he couldn't focus in class. He was overly tired, and he shifted around continuously as the material of his clothes rubbed against his raw skin. By the end of her class, Professor McGonagall had given him detention for "constantly finding staring off into the distance more productive than her lesson."<p>

In Potions, he very nearly destroyed the potion he and Malfoy were making in the first five minutes of the lesson. After that, Malfoy took pity on him and did not allow him to help for the rest of the period, telling him to look busy every time Snape came near them.

Harry wished he still took History of Magic so he could have somewhere to fall asleep peacefully.

At dinner, Hermione attempted to interrogate Harry, but she wasn't particularly successful. What she did get out of him were vague diversions or lies, as he pushed the food around his plate. He glanced over at the Slytherin table occasionally and Hermione followed his gaze with keen, thoughtful eyes.

For detention, Harry found himself following after Filch in the Trophy Room, diligently polishing away non-existent smudges on gleaming plaques and shields and trophies. Harry spent hours doing manual labour, silently putting up with the grouchy man's constant mumbling of "in my day" and "hanging them up by their thumbs in the dungeons..."

When Harry was finally released, he sighed gratefully. Alone at last, he rolled up his sleeves, relieving the burning skin of contact with the seemingly harsh material. According to his watch, he'd just missed curfew, so he needed to hurry before one of the teachers on duty caught him. He walked silently through the dark corridors, his wand light his only guidance. He wished he'd thought to bring his invisibility cloak, or even his map, but Harry hadn't predicted how vindictive the mad caretaker could be. It would be just his luck to be caught wandering after hours by Filch himself, the man cackling with glee and muttering to Mrs Norris.

Harry heard a noise behind him and he spun around, but no one was there. He turned back around cautiously and walked almost straight into Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy," he said, surprised.

"Well, Potter, what have we here? Gryffindor Golden Boy wandering the halls alone, past curfew? What ever will I do with you?" Malfoy drawled, the wand light glinting off his hair.

"Sod off," Harry snapped, "I only just got out of detention with Filch."

"Did we now?"

Harry bristled, crossing his arms, and refused to answer for fear of losing his temper. He was tired, he was sore, and Malfoy was in his way.

Suddenly, Malfoy's face was right in his, and grey eyes searched his face.

From this position, Harry realised he could unobtrusively check out the other, because it was his personal space being invaded. Not that Harry minded all that much. His eyes drifted towards Malfoy's pale, thin lips, then snapped quickly back up to eyes dancing with mirth. Harry's eyes narrowed.

_No! Shut up, stupid brain. Not gay,_ Harry thought, sidetracked.

It was then that Harry realised that he'd been back against a wall without him noticing, and Malfoy was most definitely up and close. He bit his lip as he assessed the situation.

Draco watched as Potter bit his lip in a seemingly innocent manner. To Draco's libido, however, it was anything but. He had watched Potter's eye's drift to his lips, and he couldn't help it – he leant in and fiercely pressed his lips against Potter's.

Potter gasped in shock and Draco instantly surged forward, claiming Potter's lips as his. Potter's tongue tentatively reached out, and Draco moaned in pleasure as he tasted everything that was Potter. He kissed the side of Potter's mouth and tasted the boy's sweet scent, like honey and fresh grass, before pulling back.

They both stared at each other in obvious shock at what had just transpired between them. Coming back to earth, Harry wet his lips. "Er..."

"Is that all you can say Potter? I thought it was pretty impressive, if I do say so myself," Malfoy leered in an attempt of bravado, desperately trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Harry stood there dumbly, his brain still trying to catch up. He had just snogged Draco Malfoy. He had been mashed up against a wall and kissed until he couldn't breathe, by the boy who was widely regarded as one of Hogwarts' hottest students.

And he had liked it. How many times did he have to tell himself he wasn't gay?

Suddenly realising that Malfoy was still around, Harry blushed deeply, and turned to face the tall blonde. "Uh, I'm, er..." he trailed off and glared defiantly at Malfoy. He gestured with a callous hand vaguely in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Malfoy's eyes zeroed in on the bared arm and he frowned. "Potter, what's wrong with your arm?"

Harry glanced at Malfoy and quickly away as he pulled down the sleeves of his shirt. "What? I've no idea what you're talking about..."

Malfoy grabbed one of Harry's arms, ignoring the wince from the other boy, and yanked the shirt back up, to reveal raw, angry red flesh. Harry grimaced. "Oh, that."

Malfoy stared into his eyes intensely, and Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Er, it, I was helping Hagrid out in his vegetable patch, yeah. I got it caught along the fence. Clumsy me, haha." He chuckled uneasily.

"Potter, it's all over your arm. Both arms."

"Yeah, ah, the fence tried to bite me."

"I didn't know Hagrid had a biting fence..."

"Yeah, well, it's not like you're ever down there, is it?"

Harry yanked his arm back and held it close to his chest. Malfoy appraised him thoughtfully, and Harry took his chance to flee, arms now wrapped tightly around himself.

When he reached the Gryffindor common room, he made sure his sleeves were pulled down properly against his protesting flesh.

He jumped as sudden movement caught his eye, but relaxed when he recognised the trademark Weasley hair.

"Ginny! You gave me a fright! What are you doing up?"

"Oh, I was busy studying, you know how O.W.L's are," she replied nonchalantly. In actuality she had been waiting for Harry to return, but he didn't need to know that. She held her hands behind her back with lowered shoulders, pushing out and emphasising her breasts slightly in her tight jumper. She lowered her eyes before speaking.

"Harry, I was wondering if – "

"Sorry, Ginny were you speaking? I'm so tired, I've been zoning out all day." Harry interrupted, his eyes straying to the entrance of the boy's dorm longingly, and she looked up in annoyance. She bit her lip to keep from retorting, and then silently applauded herself at her unintentionally employed innocence tactic.

"I was wondering if you would accompany me to Hogsmeade on the weekend?" she demurred.

"Oh, sorry Ginny, I wasn't planning on going. I was going to let Ron and Hermione go by themselves, see what happens, yeah?" he grinned obliviously at her.

"But what would you do all day by yourself?" she asked, frustrated. How could he not get it? She was practically thrusting her ample breasts in his face!

"Oh, I planned to do some studying, go for a bit of a fly, maybe work on my Potions assignment with Malfoy," he replied. Malfoy. Oops. He flushed involuntarily.

"Maybe I could stay with you then? Help you get some flying practice in? Keep you from the clutches of Malfoy?" Ginny suggested hopefully, ignoring the odd spike of jealousy as Harry blushed at the mention of his rival.

"Nah, it's alright," he flapped a hand, "go to Hogsmeade without me, I'm sure you'll get much more done without me."

Ginny stared at Harry unashamedly. Was he really so ignorant?

"Well, I'm off to bed, I'm knackered. Try not to fall asleep in front of the fire!" Harry yawned, and left for the boy's dorm.

Ginny sighed in defeat. Obviously, next time she would have to be much less subtle.

* * *

><p>Harry and Malfoy were working quietly at their desk in the library a few nights after The Incident, as Harry liked to call it, with capitalisations. It had been awkward between them recently, or at least it felt that way to Harry, because, come on, they had kissed, and Harry didn't know how to react to it. Not to mention that Malfoy had seen his scrubbed-raw skin, and not even Ron or Hermione had ever seen that. He was thankful that Malfoy didn't seem like bringing it up any time soon.<p>

At the moment they were writing up the results of one of their recent experiments with different ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion, and it required little to no interaction between the two sixth years, which Harry thought was a good thing.

"Potter," said Malfoy, so quietly that Harry could pretend he hadn't heard it. Harry continued to scratch his quill along the parchment in front of him, occasionally dunking his quill into the ink bottle on his left side.

"_Harry_," said Malfoy firmly.

Startled, Harry looked up in confusion.

"Ah, that got your attention then," Malfoy smirked.

Harry scowled across the table. "What do you want then, _Draco_?"

A shiver ran down Draco's spine, and he grinned at Harry.

"What are you doing on the weekend?"

Startled again, Harry took a moment to reply. Malfoy really was throwing him out of order. "Umm, probably studying, and doing some Quidditch practise."

"Not going to Hogsmeade for Halloween then?" Malfoy inquired.

"Nah, I thought I'd leave Ron and Hermione alone, see if they finally realise their feelings for one another."

Malfoy shuddered again, this time for an entirely different reason. The thought of the Weasel and Granger going at it... He cleared his throat. "In that case, _Harry_, would you like to accompany me to Hogsmead on Saturday?"

Harry stared at him in blatant shock, his mouth hanging open slightly. The sound of Malfoy rolling his given name past his lips was seductive, and it sent a zing of arousal down his body, where it coiled in his belly and purred like a smug cat.

He suddenly realised Malfoy was waiting for an answer.

"Umm... Yeah sure. I'm running low on Honeydukes anyway," he replied, suddenly emboldened by the almost eager look on Malfoy's face.

Malfoy's face split into a genuine smile. "Excellent. I'll see you in the Entrance Hall at say, half ten?"

Harry nodded, the knowledge of what he had accepted not really sinking in.

Malfoy stretched his arms above his head, arching his back. "I think I'll call this a night then, Potter. I'll see you tomorrow morning." He winked at Harry and sauntered out of the library, a definite spring to his steps.

Harry sat for a while longer at the abandoned desk, lost in thought. With a groan, he let his head bang onto the solid wood.

Had he just accepted a date with Draco Malfoy?

He absently packed up his books and things and exited the library, dawdling slowly back to the Common Room.

* * *

><p>The next day, Harry reluctantly met Malfoy down in the Entrance Hall at the specified time, and no later.<p>

"On time for once then, Harry? You must be eager," the taller boy leered suggestively and Harry felt his cheeks flush.

They lapsed into a slightly awkward silence as they walked down the hill towards the small magical village.

"Er, so, did you have anything in mind?" Harry asked uncomfortably.

"I need to visit the Apothecary, and I need to post a letter. Did you have anything you need to do?"

"Er, nothing beyond stocking up my Honeydukes supplies, or drinking some Butterbeer..."

"Not Madame Puddifoots, then?"

Harry looked scandalised. "Oh, Merlin, No! Don't you dare set foot near that bloody shop!"

Malfoy – no, Harry supposed it was Draco now, well at least mentally – chuckled. "Bad experience?"

"You have no idea," Harry groaned, thinking back to that fateful day with Cho.

Draco nudged his arm. "Spill then, come on."

Harry tried to shrug nonchalantly. "I went there with Cho last Valentine's Day. It didn't end well."

"That's it?"

Harry glared at his companion. "Yeah that was it, after yelling at me and claiming I was having an affair with Hermione, not to mention being surrounded by eavesdropping couples going at it like they were dying."

Draco laughed outright then, throwing his head back. Harry caught himself eyeing the line of that pale, perfect throat, the Adams apple bobbing seductively.

They entered the local apothecary, a small, dingy shop that didn't have anywhere near the clientele the other businesses in Diagon Alley had. Harry hung back and tried not to have a staring contest with a jar of moving eyes in a back corner as Draco found and bought what he needed.

Their next stop was Honeydukes, and Harry wandered around the warm, delicious-smelling store, selecting several bags worth of mouth-watering chocolate. Once out of the store, Draco produced a rose made out of chocolate and presented it to Harry with a flourish. He had purchased it while Harry had been busy browsing, and he couldn't resist.

Harry flushed bright red and muttered a quick thanks. He wasn't used to getting gifts, and from Draco Malfoy it came as quite a shock, even if he did secretly enjoy the attention.

Draco grinned as Harry unwrapped the chocolate rose and took a small bite out of a delicate petal. He watched as Harry's tongue darted out of his mouth to lick at a stray crumb of melting chocolate from his lips.

Harry smiled at Draco, a real genuine smile, the first one he had given Draco, and Draco cherished it. Could it really have been only a few months since he had told Harry he was dead for putting his father in Azkaban?

They made their way to the Post Office and bumped into Ron and Hermione and Ginny along the way. Ron and Hermione smiled and waved, but Ginny scowled ferociously at both Harry and Draco.

Harry looked away uncomfortably, keenly aware that he had now lied to Ginny. Technically, she had asked him to Hogsmeade before Draco has asked him, and he had said he wasn't going. Now, here he was with someone he had once hated, and he was perfectly content, not regretting agreeing to go with Draco. Although he probably should clear things up with Ginny...

Harry mentally shrugged and chomped on his chocolate happily.

After the Post Office, they headed for the Three Broomsticks. The pub was bustling, full of students and teachers eager to get out of the windy weather, and it was difficult to find an empty table.

Once settled with their Butterbeer at a small table in the back of the room, however, Harry asked the question he had been pondering all day. "Why did you ask me to Hogsmeade with you?"

Draco looked at him shrewdly, taking pause to think before answering. "Because I thought you needed to get out and relax for a while."

Harry's face fell ever so slightly, and Draco hastily added: "and because – because I wanted to spend time with you not slaving over potions."

"Well that's alright then," said Harry, leaning back in his chair. He took a long slurp of his Butterbeer, wondering why the brief silence suddenly felt awkward. He struggled to think of something to start the comfortable conversation back up.

"This is weird," He mused, and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Us, this, whatever. You realise, this time last year we hated each other's very existence?"

"Mmm, well, we all grow up sometime," murmured Draco, "all we needed was to go through a war and be shoved into a year-long assignment."

"Yeah, not much at all, really," Harry agreed with an amused smile. He took another sip from his Butterbeer, smaller this time.

"Well, why didn't the Weasel and Granger throw a hissy fit when they saw us earlier?"

"Don't call him that, Ferret-boy," Harry reprimanded lightly.

Draco scowled.

Harry smiled back innocently before answering. "Well, you haven't been too much of an arsehole recently, and I haven't been complaining and moaning to them how you're secretly torturing me or anything, and Hermione is jealous of how well we're working together for Potions, so she's probably told Ron that you aren't evil anymore. Or they just don't care and like seeing me happy."

Draco frowned at the last statement. "You aren't normally happy?"

"Oh, nothing like that," Harry hastened to correct him, "Just with the war, and the pressure and the worry and the deaths, it got to me like it got to everyone, but they always had each other."

Draco was still slightly suspicious, but he let it go. "And why would Granger be jealous of how well we're working together?"

Harry chuckled. "Oh, because she's partnered with Terry Boot, and apparently they have intellectual debates that she can't be sure on winning, unlike with her and Ron."

Draco smirked, victorious that he had one-upped Granger, and simply because he was partnered with Harry. "What was up with Girl-Weasley then?" he asked, "She looked like someone had just desecrated her favourite teddy bear and then smeared it all over her face."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the image. "I, er, well, she asked me to Hogsmeade for some reason and I told her I was busy. This was before you asked though..."

Draco began to laugh then. It was a completely loose, carefree laugh, void of dignity and snobbishness, and he didn't seem to care that he was getting looks from people on neighbouring tables. Reluctantly, Harry began to join in as Draco's laughter became contagious. After a while, they didn't know what they had been laughing about, and it just made them laugh harder.

Eventually they calmed down and reluctantly deemed it was time to head back to the castle.

They strolled through the cool streets of Hogsmeade, a steady flow of conversation keeping them both occupied. The streets were much quieter than they had been a few hours ago, as most of the students had departed for the castle long before, as had many of the wizards and witches day-tripping to the Wizarding village.

Suddenly, Draco's hand was tight around Harry's arm, and he dragged Harry into a dark alley.

Harry felt a spike of fear shoot through him before he could reassure himself. This was Draco. He wouldn't hurt him... but would he?

"Draco – what – "

Draco pushed him against a dirty wall, quite gently Harry thought, confusing him further.

Malfoy kept one hand around Harry's arm, his other down by his side, trying to be as unthreatening as possible. He didn't want Harry to run screaming rape. He looked into the wary emerald green eyes earnestly.

"Harry, why do you think I asked you to Hogsmeade?"

"What? Draco – let me go, what are you – "

Draco shifted his thumb around Harry's bicep in what could almost be called a caress, his eyes never leaving Harry's, waiting for him to answer.

"I, I don't know, you needed company?"

Draco leant in then, his lips ghosting over Harry's. Harry gasped softly as he realised what Draco wanted, and Draco captured the bubbling protest with his mouth. He pressed lightly against Harry's unresponsive lips, but soon he was granted entry as Harry moved slightly against him.

Draco's tongue probed into the willing mouth, slipping behind the teeth to battle for dominance with Harry.

Harry's brain was fuzzy. He couldn't think what was happening, could only taste what had to be the best thing in the world, vanilla and sunlight. A tiny voice in the back of his head told him he wanted more, but he tried his best to squash that little revelation.

Draco suddenly pulled back, he didn't want to push his luck.

"I asked you to Hogsmeade on a _date_, Harry."

"But, I don't – "

"You do, Harry."

Harry stared at him helplessly.

"You feel it too, I know you do. All those years of petty fighting? Sexual tension." Draco attempted to smirk at the other boy, but it really came off as a hopeful smile. "And now that we've got all the insults out of the way, look at how well we work together! Look how good today has been, don't you see? Go out with me Harry."

"But – "

Draco nudged the obvious bulge between Harry's legs with his knee. Harry shuddered.

"But I'm not gay!" Harry finally cried out. "I _can't_ be!"

Draco shrugged. "So be bisexual."

Harry just stared at him incredulously.

"Give me a chance, Harry."

Harry looked into Draco's grey eyes, searching for something within their depths. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, and he hesitantly leant forwards until he met Draco's lips again. This was not an erotic kiss; it was tentative, curious, testing. He pulled away much too quickly in Draco's opinion, but what he saw made his heart jump.

"I'll give you a chance, but I'm telling you, I'm not gay!"

Draco pulled away from Harry and smiled brilliantly. "Come on then, otherwise you'll start to worry your Gryffindor friends."

They walked back to the castle silently, their hands occasionally bumping together.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm sorry, I feel like I'm rushing into this too quickly, or that Draco hasn't been evil for long enough or something. But the emphasis of the story really isn't about their relationship, it's about Harry's... childhood. And don't worry, we're not even close to half way through yet

Actually, on that note, I should tell you I'm aiming for about 18 chapters.

Please read and review!


	4. Hermione Being Hermione

I'm sorry, I feel like this is late. I hate not keeping to self-made deadlines. I got a bit of writers block, so naturally I procrastinated. You'll be happy to know that in my procrastination I wrote a Doctor Who version of the song Get Back To Hogwarts, from AVPM.

As it is, I think this is my longest chapter yet.

* * *

><p>Harry returned to the common room in a mix of emotions. He was happy because he had spent a fantastic day with Draco but he was nervous and self-conscious now that they had parted. What if Draco was doing it just for the fun? Did he really like Harry? How could they get over five years of rivalry and hatred so quickly?<p>

Harry was also in denial. He wasn't gay. But he tentatively liked Draco. But he wasn't gay. But kissing Draco elicited such a reaction out of both of them. He was confused. What would Ron and Hermione think? Did it matter what the rest of the Wizarding World thought? Harry didn't think so, but then again, this was an entirely new experience for him.

How did the Wizarding World react to gay relationships?

Harry was sprung from his thoughts rather violently as a red-haired, fiery, shrieking she-demon screamed in his face.

He jumped in shock, before realising it was only an irate Ginny. Which, on the other hand, could be worse. Harry tried to tune into her rant, but it was quite repetitive.

" – with that _sodding_ ferret, Draco _sodding_ Malfoy – can't _believe_ you humiliated me like that – _bloody ferret_ – _what the hell is wrong with you_?"

Harry tuned out in confusion. How had he humiliated Ginny? By accompanying Draco to Hogsmeade? Or by turning her down beforehand... He looked desperately around the room for some support, but most of the students were watching avidly at the Boy-Who-Lived being yelled at like a child. Or maybe they were laughing at Ginny making a fool of herself? Ron met his gaze exasperatedly, a smile twitching at his lips, and it was at that moment that he realised he was on his own.

" – are you even listening to me? Harry Potter you listen to me right now! What the hell were you doing with that sodding ferret?"

Ginny took a breath, her face as red as her hair, and Harry tried to sneak in a response.

"Er, well, he needed to visit the apothecary..."

Ginny let out a shriek of malicious laughter. "Is that what they call it these days?"

Harry was starting to get annoyed now, Ginny was going too far. "He's my... friend, Ginny. I'm allowed to spend time with him!"

"You, friends with Draco Malfoy?" she cackled crazily, as if Harry was joking with her. She quailed slightly under Harry's fierce glare, but she refused to back down.

"So, it's alright to accept an invitation with Draco bloody Malfoy to Hogsmeade, but not alright to accept mine?"

"Well, he asked me after you did..." Harry trailed off, immediately aware he had said something very wrong.

"So why did you accept his invite and not mine? Surely, as I asked first, you should have gone with me?" Ginny's voice was deadly quiet, but it was like looking into the eyes of a lion ready to pounce.

Harry floundered. What was he supposed to say? He hadn't particularly wanted to go to Hogsmeade with Ginny, she alarmed him by how close she always seemed to be, and when she smiled at him it reminded him of a cross between a possessive mother bear, always ready to pounce, and one of his psychotic fans, like the ones that sent marriage proposals in the mail. She was clingy and it scared him when she was too near him.

He pushed a hand through his hair in frustration. Whatever he said would undoubtedly be the wrong thing, so he figured he may as well plunge into the deep end. "Look, I didn't want to go with you, alright?" he snapped.

The common room was deadly silent, and Parvati Patil's hairpin could be heard falling to the floor from her slack fingers with a clatter as the gossip girl paid rapt attention to the argument.

Instead of the expected explosion, Ginny lifted her chin stubbornly. "Fine," she managed to spit out, her voice a little higher pitched than normal. "Fine," she repeated. She withdrew away from Harry, turned around, and with her back stiff, marched from the common room.

Harry stared incredulously after her, before letting out a relieved sigh. Ron looked at him and shrugged apologetically as he and Hermione made their way over to him.

"Give me some warning next time, will you?" Harry grumbled.

"Sorry mate. She was a right annoyance the whole time we were in Hogsmeade after that, moaning and groaning. Figured you could have a taste of it too."

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded, slapping him on the shoulder.

Ron just shrugged again. He knew what his sister was like.

"So what were you doing with Malfoy anyway, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"And what's this about you being his friend?" Ron burst in.

Harry frowned at his friends. "He really isn't all that bad you know." When they just waited for him to continue, he sighed. "Yes, we're friends. Yes, he isn't as bad anymore. He wanted to go to the apothecary and run some various other errands, and he asked me to accompany him."

"What, no Crabbe or Goyle, or even Parkinson?" said Ron scornfully.

Harry pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Actually, I'm under the impression they aren't all that close. I think he's barely mentioned any of them in the time we've spent together."

"And the chocolate rose, Harry?" asked Hermione slyly.

Harry blushed and refused to answer. That rose reminded him of other things.

He made his goodbyes distractedly and made his way up to his dorm. Once there, he spelled the curtains shut around his four poster bed and transfigured them solid, and added a complex silencing spell just to be safe. He needed to think. He lay back and tucked his hands behind his head.

Harry began listing his problems/questions in his head. Number 1: He had kissed Draco Malfoy. Twice. Number 2: He had liked it. Number 3: He had dreamt about Draco Malfoy. Number 4: He had gone on a date with said person. Number 5: He enjoyed his company, and they worked well together.

Harry had to admit reluctantly, given the list, he seemed to like Draco Malfoy. He liked the kissing. Was he gay, though? It wasn't like Harry had actively thought about any specific guy, but then again, he had only fancied one girl, Cho Chang. Harry had never allowed himself to think about other boys, as far as knew, it wasn't accepted. But was that because he was basing his experiences on Uncle Vernon and the muggle world, or because he hadn't noticed anything in the Wizarding World?

What would it mean if he was gay? Would he suddenly enjoy shopping? Harry snorted. He was still Harry, there was no way he would suddenly become addicted to shopping. Harry thought about the sexual side. Considering his childhood influences and – experiences – with Uncle Vernon, he didn't think he would be able to do anything like that.

If he didn't enjoy sex, it didn't mean he couldn't admire how boys _looked_ and all that. Harry tried to picture Ron as some sex icon for gay men, but he couldn't get past the face that he was his best mate, practically his brother. He shuddered. It was almost incest.

Harry thought of Draco. The boy was aristocratically handsome, with high cheekbones and a thin, pointy nose. He had grown into his pointy chin slightly, and for that Harry was thankful. His grey eyes were deep and always burning with emotions, whether it was happiness or from his superior, narcissistic, attitude. Harry could only imagine what lay beneath the school clothes.

Harry frowned, but grinned faintly.

Okay, so Harry definitely liked Draco. There was just one problem: Harry didn't _want_ to be gay.

Harry ground the palms of his hands into his eyes. Why couldn't he ever have a normal year?

Alright, next issue, Harry reflected. His whatever-this-was with Draco. Harry liked Draco. He could – kind of – imagine doing things with him. But Harry was scared. All his life he had been a freak, told that being gay was abnormal and wrong, and here he was, another step away from being normal.

Harry let out a hysterical shout of laughter which broke off in a choked sob when he thought of the irony of his situation. After all, if Vernon couldn't beat the magic out of him, how could he be expected to rape the gay out of him?

There was a knock on his bedside table, the noise permeated through his solid curtains. He should have known. He rested his arm over his face and briefly cancelled the spells to let Hermione in.

She crawled onto his bed and curled up at the foot. She tentatively placed a hand on the leg closest to her.

"You like him, don't you?" she asked softly.

He ignored her question, asking his own instead, his voice muffled. "Hermione, how is homosexuality regarded in the Wizarding World?"

Hermione didn't answer for a while, and Harry began to assume the worst. "I believe it's quite different, actually," she murmured, "quite the opposite. It's widely accepted, but there are a few radicals out there, there always will be. Wizards have always been more concerned with blood purity than sexual orientation."

Harry didn't respond, and they sat there in silence.

"Ron doesn't mind, you know," said Hermione eventually.

Harry snorted. "What, that I might be gay, or that it's Draco Malfoy?"

"Ron couldn't care less if you were gay, Harry, didn't I just say that wizards don't care? He didn't mind that it was Malfoy, said he could see the sexual tension for years."

"Why is it that I'm the only one who didn't see all this supposed sexual tension?" Harry burst out.

"Because you didn't want to see it," she replied mildly.

"Alright then, isn't, isn't he mad that I upset Ginny?"

This time it was Hermione who let out an undignified snort. "Really, I just think he's glad there's one less boy lusting after his sister. Harry, you're practically his brother, and it's not like you led her on or anything."

Harry shrugged awkwardly, his arm still covering his eyes. "S'pose..."

"Harry, this... aversion to being gay, has this been influenced at all by the Dursleys?"

"I'm not gay!" Harry insisted. "Look, I fancied Cho last year, alright? I'm not gay!"

Hermione gazed piercingly at him, and he tried to sink further into the bed.

"It doesn't matter either way, Harry, no one cares if you're gay. But you can't deny you fancy Malfoy. Maybe you're just gay for him." Hermione gave him a tiny smile, and he tried to return it. Honestly.

"Gay for Draco Malfoy, alright," he repeated faintly.

"Now are you going to answer my question?"

Harry cursed inwardly. He had been hoping she would forget. "No," he replied mulishly. But for Hermione, that was as good as an answer.

* * *

><p>Harry made his way down to breakfast the next day resolutely, Ron and Hermione at his side. He was going to give Draco a chance. He was going to give being gay a chance.<p>

He noticed Ginny sitting stiffly at one end of the table, looking overly tired and most definitely still angry. Eager to avoid any future hexing from her, he hastened to direct his friends to the opposite end of the Gryffindor table. Ron grinned knowingly.

So eager was he to avoid Ginny, that he was one of the last to leave the Great Hall, pretending to still be eating as Ginny passed him as she finally left.

By that stage Hermione had long since left them, refusing to be late to Potions. Ron and Harry scurried down the almost empty corridors, and managed to slip into the room just before Professor Snape.

"10 points from Gryffindor. Tardiness is not welcome in my classroom," said Snape dismissively from behind them.

Harry scowled as he dropped into his seat beside a smirking Draco.

Harry promptly flushed, remembering Hogsmead. Draco's smirk widened.

Soon enough, they were given the go to begin the potion for that lesson. Harry noticed with interest that it was a potent healing potion, to be used on wounds such as cuts and abrasions.

He concentrated intensely throughout the lesson, determined not to mess up such a potion. If he had known this potion years ago...

Beside him, Draco was getting frustrated. He wondered whether Harry was actually ignoring him, or just trying to succeed in Potions for once. Better to see how the rest of the day went.

He left his perfect potion to cool, and turned to face his slightly frantic partner.

Draco smirked again, and placed a hand on Harry's thigh. What happened next would have been priceless, if it weren't for the real fear he saw in Harry's eyes for an instant before it was replaced by upset and anger.

Harry had jumped from his seat with a loud yell, and dropped the vial in his hand that he had been using to collect his potion in. The potion had smashed on the floor.

Harry stared at the broken vial for a moment before turning accusing eyes on Draco.

Draco schooled his face into one of innocence and smiled up at Harry.

"Potter," Snape snarled from the front of the room. "10 points from Gryffindor for interrupting my class."

" But – "

"20."

Harry snapped his mouth shut and sat back down. He narrowed his eyes in a fierce glare at Draco, before fishing into his bag for a new vial and firmly ignoring his Potions partner for the rest of the lesson.

"That was rotten luck with Malfoy, mate. Are you sure he's not still a git?"

Harry threw an annoyed look at Ron. "It was just, uh, static electricity. Gave me a bit of a shock."

Ron nodded, swallowing the rather pathetic lie. Hermione stayed silent, her lips pursed. After all these years, Harry was still terrible at lying. Or maybe it was just that she knew him so well that she could see through his act. Pity Ron wasn't half as observant...

It wasn't until their Transfiguration lesson later that day that Harry forgave Draco, as a beautiful paper bird fluttered down onto Harry's desk before McGonagall entered the classroom.

Lavender and Parvati cooed from behind Harry, and he hastily touched the bird to open it. It merely read one word:

_Dinner?_

As Harry read the word, it transfigured into others, the letters swirling around until finally settling in:

_7pm, Room of Requirement._

The words moved again, this time forming a picture.

Harry snorted as an ink-drawn Draco Malfoy smirked and fluttered his eyelashes obscenely at Harry.

He looked over at the real Draco and nodded his head slightly before smiling.

At that moment Hermione snatched the parchment from his hands. Upon seeing the note, she let out and undignified shriek and fell backwards, tipping on her chair and landing on the floor in a heap.

Hermione lay there, stunned.

"Ms Granger, _what_ are you doing?" inquired an equally shocked Professor McGonagall as she finally made her way to the head of the room.

Hermione flushed a dark red and stuttered out an apology, pulling up her chair and clambering in.

McGonagall turned her attention to the rest of the class, but most of them were still staring at Hermione as their summoned assignments flew to land in a neat pile on Professor McGonagall's desk.

Hermione punched Harry on the arm. Hard.

"Ow! What was that for?" he hissed under his breath, rubbing the spot.

"Give it to Malfoy," was the nonsensical reply.

Harry stared at her incredulously. She wanted him to _pass on a punch_? Wasn't that incredibly... juvenile? First year? Childish?

Ron guffawed next to him.

Hermione merely began taking notes.

Later that night saw Harry standing in front of a blank wall on the seventh floor. What room did he want, exactly?

Suddenly, the wall shifted and formed a small, quaint door, what one might see on the entrance of a cottage. Harry didn't think it was his thoughts that had keyed the change, so he shrugged his shoulders and hoped Draco was inside.

It was dim inside the Room of Requirement, but at its centre was a table lit by a single candle, and lavished with a wide variety of delicious foods.

Draco appeared then, from around a corner that Harry hadn't realised was there.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Harry couldn't help but admire Draco, as subtly as possible of course. Draco was wearing black slacks and a grey, silk, long sleeved shirt that matched the clear grey of his eyes. Harry tugged at the hem of his own shirt. He had simply worn his school clothes, though without any Gryffindor insignia. It wasn't like he owned much else.

"There's a lot of food," Harry offered.

Draco shrugged an elegant shoulder. "I told the house-elves to bring what they thought were your favourites. I had no idea there was so much."

Harry flushed. "I like food," he muttered.

"Well, shall we?" said Draco after a pause, gesturing with an open hand.

The silence resumed, disturbed only by the sounds of cutlery on plate, as Harry attempted to eat his Shepherd's Pie as daintily as possible. He was suddenly consciously aware that Draco had been raised in a rich, pureblooded family, and therefore had impeccable manners, let alone an impeccable appearance.

"Treacle Tart is your favourite dessert?" Draco finally asked, sounding slightly amused.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of potato before answering. "Well, I'd never had it before Hogwarts, and it was what I ate on my first night here. The taste and the memories of that first feast were what made such an impression."

"The taste of food made such a big impression on you?"

Harry looked away from Draco's intense gaze. "Um, yes. My, er, my family had a rather... _bland_ taste in food, especially before I went to Hogwarts," he lied easily.

Draco still looked slightly suspicious, but he let it drop.

"So have you given anymore thought to being gay?"

He stared avidly into Harry's face, trying to gauge the other boy's reaction. Harry ran a hand through his hair before nervously pulling it back down over his forehead. He slowly chewed a piece of Treacle Tart.

"Hermione reckons I might be gay."

"I don't care what... Granger _reckons_," said Draco with disdain, a small wrinkling of his nose.

"Yeah, well, Hermione also gave me a punch to give to you for making her fall off her chair in Transfiguration," Harry snapped.

"I did nothing of the sort," Draco replied loftily.

Harry scowled.

Quick as a flash, Draco leant over and pecked Harry's pouting lips. As he retreated, Harry followed.

They kissed over the table of empty plates and leftover food.

Draco smiled into the kiss, and Harry opened his mouth, inviting him in.

They hardly noticed when the room changed to suit their needs, as the table vanished between them and they moved to adjust. They stood there, pressing into one another, Harry's hands mussing Draco's perfect hair as he pulled the taller boy closer to him.

Draco had his arms wrapped around Harry, a hand gripping into his shoulder blades, the other pulling his lower back closer.

They broke apart, panting. "Probably definitely gay," Harry breathed.

Draco grinned breathtakingly, his hand joining the other at Harry's waist.

He thrust his hips slightly, grinding his erection into Harry's. Draco was constantly astounded how the Boy Wonder always seemed to excite some sort of reaction out of him, whether anger or arousal, hate or the extreme opposite.

Harry gasped and withdrew slightly from Draco's hold.

"Um, I, as I'm so new to the gay experience, I think we should go – go slow," Harry managed to stutter, closing his eyes against his own pleasure.

"But you seem to enjoy it so much," Draco purred. He slipped a hand around Harry's hip slightly, and dipped a teasing finger below the waistline.

Harry shuddered, his head bending to rest against Draco's shoulder.

He shuddered again, and snapped his head back up. He placed his hands gently on Draco's chest, pushing him away. "No," he murmured.

Draco frowned.

Harry met his eyes a little sadly, but it seemed to be masking some other, greater emotion.

"No. I'm not – I'm not ready. I've only just figured out I'm gay, give me a while."

Draco suspected that wasn't the whole truth, but he didn't want to step any further onto what seemed to be already dangerous ground.

"Shall we call it a night then?" Draco took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, his prominent erection.

Harry's face fell slightly, as if worried he had buggered it up. There was now a clear few feet of distance between them, but Harry looked to be calming down.

Draco smiled gently. If this was what it took to get Harry, he'd go slowly. He wanted this – whatever this was – to work. He placed a long finger under Harry's chin, forcing him to look up at Draco.

"Do I still get my goodnight kiss?"

Harry smiled in response, and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on Draco's lips, before asking hopefully, "We'll do this again then?"

"Of course, Golden Boy. Your turn when and where next time."

Harry mock-scowled at Draco. "Good night, ferret."

Harry sauntered out the room, the door opening before him by itself.

Once back in his common room, Harry collapsed into a squishy armchair next to Ron, who was frantically scribbling on the parchment in his lap. Potions books were stacked on the arms of the chair and wedged down the sides and on the side table, and Harry had to guess the essay that was due the next day.

Ron looked up at the sound of Harry's arrival in the empty room and frowned. If he didn't know his best friend any better, he would have said the look Harry was wearing was dreamy, and that he looked thoroughly snogged.

Then he realised that Harry hadn't been seen since before dinner. He wet his lips. "You, you were with Malfoy, weren't you?" he asked faintly.

"Hmm, what? Yeah..."

Ron really didn't need images of his best mate snogging his once worst enemy.

"Has he really changed that much?" Ron asked tentatively, if only to wipe that damn just-been-kissed look from Harry's face.

Harry looked across at him, apparently trying to decide how Ron intended the question. He considered him thoughtfully.

"He has, I believe. Oh, he's still stuck-up and smarmy, but he also has a romantic side. And a passionate side, and I mean that emotionally, Ron. Not sexually. Come on, I've only been on two dates." Harry added in exasperation as he saw Ron start to gag a bit. "He's all, fiery and determined and elegant. And witty. I never would have guessed it. And a massive flirt."

"Well, that's... good." Ron swallowed loudly. He wasn't used to saying Malfoy was good. At anything. But if it made Harry happy, then Ron was willing to sacrifice a bit of his pride.

"Potions, then?" asked Harry, changing the subject abruptly.

Ron smiled ruefully. "Yeah, due tomorrow. I'm assuming you finished yours with the help of the illustrious Malfoy then?"

Harry nodded. "Finished it last week," he smirked.

Ron grumbled something unintelligible about "stupid poncy Slytherins and their stupid perfect potions."

Harry grinned, before yawning and heading off to bed, clapping Ron on the shoulder as he left.

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><p>Please Review!<p> 


	5. Draco's Mistake

A/N: the shit's about to hit the fan. You've been warned. :)

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><p>The next few weeks saw Harry blissfully happy, ignorant and completely unaware of much of what was going on around him. Ron couldn't help but chortle to himself late one evening in the Common Room as he watched his best friend once again obliviously rebuff his little sister. He supposed he should be angry or defending Ginny's honour or something, but it was far too funny, and he didn't want to ruin Harry's mood; Ron hadn't seen him this lively since before Sirius had died. Even if it was Malfoy who had made Harry smile.<p>

He ducked his head as Ginny stormed past, her face almost purple with suppressed rage. Harry sat down in a seat next to Ron a few moments later with a sigh.

"You could just tell her you know," said Ron, without looking up.

"Tell her what?" asked Harry, sounding confused.

Ron almost groaned in exasperation.

"That you're, you know. Gay."

Harry looked scandalised. "Shhh!" he whispered furiously.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Seriously, mate. No one's going to care. If you don't want to tell her that, at least tell her you're taken or something."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Because, Harry," Ron explained patiently, "She's going to keep asking you out to Hogsmeade, or to dinner, or to the Room of Requirement, or to 'study with her' until you say yes."

Harry rubbed absently at his scar. It didn't hurt anymore, but it was still habit when he was anxious, or confused, or stressed, or really whenever his hand unconsciously made its way to his forehead, really. "I don't understand why she keeps asking though!" he finally complained.

Ron felt like banging his head against the closest wall available. This was hard enough as it was without Harry being dense. "She fancies you," he said bluntly.

Harry stared at him, aghast. "What? No, she can't – ohhhh."

"Yeah, oh. Now make her back off before I have to do my brotherly duty."

Harry snorted, he couldn't help it. Ron's version of being brotherly was most often groaning about his sister's various boyfriends, and laying empty threats on the boys when they weren't ever in hearing distance.

Ron glared, and Harry held up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, I'll tell her something."

"Good," said Ron, seemingly mollified. "Now how about a game of chess?"

"You just want to beat me," Harry grumbled, but he obligingly settled across from the board Ron conveniently had set up in front of him.

"Of course!" Ron replied brightly.

Draco and Harry had by now developed a routine, and they met almost every evening, whether for dinner or not. They would work on their potions assignment, keep up with any other homework they might have, and then they would spend the rest of their time talking, or kissing.

True to his word, Draco had kept everything above the belt, and Harry couldn't be more grateful. He knew they would probably get there eventually, but for now he was happy with the way things were going.

He was glad they talked a fair amount as well, it made their relationship that much more solid and fathomable to Harry. He was amazed at how much he learnt about the Slytherin as well. He learnt all about the pureblood's upbringing, from his home-tutored lessons to the balls and galas his mother held annually. He was fascinated with such a different life style to his own, and he questioned Draco endlessly.

Draco occasionally tried to slip in a question about Harry's childhood, but he never seemed to get a response, it was like Harry hadn't heard anything. He didn't mind though, because seeing Harry so excited as he discovered Draco's adventurous childhood, was fulfilling to an extent he didn't understand.

It was in a Defence lesson late one afternoon that Harry had a sudden realisation. What would Remus think? He didn't understand why it had never occurred to him to tell Remus; Remus whom he confided in about Sirius, Remus who was always there, always had advice, always trying to look out for him.

But then again, Harry worried, what if the only adult/parental figure, the only link to his parents and godfather, rejected him for it?

There was only one thing for it, he realised apprehensively; he would have to tell him. Harry couldn't very well hide in the dark forever, and Hermione was sure the Wizarding World was fairly accepting...

"Harry?"

He was shaken from his musings at the voice of Remus, and he blushed as he noticed that most of the class had turned to stare at him.

"Sorry sir, what did you say?"

"I asked if you could please recite to me the structure of how you might defend yourself from an inferi."

Harry hurriedly rattled off the answer, avoiding Remus' mild gaze.

After the class, he lingered. The lesson was followed by lunch anyway, so he wouldn't be missing anything. Draco eyed at him worriedly as he was leaving, but Harry merely gave him a tiny smile, noticeable only to Draco because he was looking.

"Did you want something, Harry?" asked Remus, halting in packing away his gear.

"Er, yes." Harry stopped, his mouth suddenly having gone dry.

Remus smiled kindly at his nervousness. "We can talk in my rooms if you like, have the elves send up some tea and lunch."

Harry nodded stiffly. "That would be nice," he agreed. Really, he didn't need to be so nervous. It was Remus.

Remus' rooms were located on the ground floor, and they walked there in silence. Once inside, Remus ushered Harry to the sitting room, where a tray of tea and biscuits was steaming away on a low table placed in the middle of a lounge suite. Harry settled in a comfortable leather armchair, while Remus sat opposite on the leather couch, the tray between them.

"Now what's this about?" Remus asked, handing Harry a cup of steaming tea. "I could practically smell your nervousness. Is this why you weren't paying attention?"

Harry took a large gulp of his tea, regretting it almost instantly. It burned his throat. "Yeah," he nodded reluctantly.

Remus waited patiently, sipping at his own tea and dunking a biscuit into it.

"I'm gay," Harry finally blurted.

Remus inhaled half his tea, sloshing it on his chest and choking as his mouth burned. Whatever he had been expecting, that wasn't it. Harry looked at him fearfully as he waited for a response.

"Well that was unexpected," said Remus weakly. He waved his wand, drying his robes.

Harry put his head in his hands, tea forgotten.

Remus could feel the pain radiating off of Harry, and he immediately knew his response hadn't been the one Harry had wanted. Honestly, he had nothing against him being gay, he just hadn't expected it.

He smiled. "Have you got a boyfriend, then?"

Harry's head shot up, noting the complete sincerity on Remus' face. He relaxed visibly, and smiled in return at his mentor.

"Yeah, I do. We've been dating for a few weeks now."

Remus' eyebrows shot up. He hadn't even had the slightest inkling Harry had been seeing someone, let alone another boy. He took another sip at his tea.

"It's Draco Malfoy," Harry continued.

This time, Remus sprayed his mouthful of tea out in shock, sending tiny droplets all over his clothes and into the carpet.

Harry eyed him warily.

"A few weeks you say?" Remus asked weakly.

Harry nodded, cautious again.

"Well, whatever makes you happy, I guess. Or as the muggles say, whatever floats your boat..."

Harry's lips twitched then, before breaking into a huge, relieved smile.

"Merlin, Remus, you've no idea how worried I was about how you'd react to me being..."

"Gay?" Remus supplied, his eyes dancing, "I can hardly be prejudiced when my best mate was the biggest flaming ponce in the school, now, can I?"

Harry choked around the iced biscuit he had just thought appropriate to take a bite of. "What?"

"Sirius never told you?" Remus cocked his head to the side.

"Sirius?" Harry yelped, his voice breaking disturbingly on the first syllable.

"How many best mates did you think I had?"

Remus was definitely looking amused now, Harry noticed, disgruntled.

"Well there was always Pettigrew..." Harry muttered uncomfortably.

Silence fell briefly at the mention of the traitorous Marauder. Peter Pettigrew had died shortly after the war had ended, choked to death by his own silver hand in a cell in Azkaban.

Remus snorted. "Could you ever imagine runty little Peter being a _flaming_ ponce?"

"Well, no," said Harry, chuckling reluctantly at the image that presented itself.

"I wish he'd told me though," Harry murmured softly.

Remus leant over to place a hand on Harry's knee. "You can make it up to him by dating a Malfoy. I'm sure Sirius would be rolling in his grave by now, if he had one."

Harry smiled again. Remus always knew the right thing to say.

A bell sounded, and Harry looked in alarm at his watch.

"Next class, of you go then," said Remus.

Harry thanked him for the tea, Remus invited him back anytime. Harry grabbed his book bag and raced off to his next class, his head reeling from the information Remus had given him.

Remus sat in his own rooms for a while longer, contemplating the news he had received from Harry.

* * *

><p>The Room of Requirement never ceased to amaze Harry; right now he and Draco were cuddled on a couch, facing a fireplace roaring with warmth. They had spent the evening discussing the next step of their potions assignment, and Draco had helped explain a complex Transfiguration wand movement to Harry. Now, they were just relaxing.<p>

Harry could suddenly feel Draco breathing wetly in his ear. He fidgeted, accidentally shifting his head closer to Draco.

Draco smirked, and stuck out his tongue, tracing the shell of Harry's ear. Harry felt a strange urge to giggle, but he repressed that urge. He refused to giggle. It was just. Not. Right. Draco gently tugged at the ear with his teeth, and Harry let out a little moan.

His nose nudged Harry's cheek, and Harry tilted his head slightly to meet Draco's lips in a passionate kiss.

Draco's hands quested over Harry's chest, feeling the erect nipples and swirling his thumbs over them through the cloth of Harry's thin, falling apart shirt.

Harry moaned again, his arms coming up to grip at Draco's shoulders and hair. He was still so inexperienced and awkward, he didn't know what to do with his hands. He appreciated that Draco seemed to take it in his stride and not make fun of him.

Draco's hand drifted, steadily getting lower, but Harry didn't notice, his brain preoccupied with what his mouth was doing. Draco's other hand was warm on his shoulder, gripping tightly.

Draco's fingers teased the bare skin between Harry's shirt and trouser waistline, he didn't notice as Harry tensed slightly, unsure of what Draco was doing.

The fingertips merely traced along the skin, and Harry relaxed again as Draco renewed kissing him, his insides roiling with triumph.

He dipped a finger below Harry's waistband.

Harry froze.

Draco continued to kiss Harry's frozen lips, assuming it was just arousal or nervousness that made his partner motionless. He dipped his hand a bit further.

Harry let out a whine of distress. He suddenly felt trapped, almost claustrophobic, with Draco's grip on his shoulder, looming partially over him as his hand crawled into forbidden territory.

– "_That's right, you like it don't you, you filthy whore, getting hard, gonna come for me slut?" – _

Draco finally reached his destination, only to find it resolutely unresponsive. He frowned. He could have sworn it was hard only moments before...

In confusion, he opened his eyes properly to look at Harry's face, and what he saw was quite possibly the worst thing he had ever witnessed.

Harry stared unseeingly past Draco's shoulder, his eyes glazed with terror. Draco hastily removed his hands from Harry, sliding away from the other boy. What had he done? He had read all the signs wrong, and now Harry had gone all weird.

"Harry?" he asked very quietly, almost a whisper.

Harry's head snapped towards him then, and Draco almost sighed in relief, before he realised Harry still looked terrified.

Harry stared at him as if he didn't recognise him, and Draco tentatively held out a hand, still leaving space between them.

Harry flinched, and suddenly everything came back to focus, who was with him, where he was. He turned an accusing eye on Draco.

"You – I told you I wasn't ready!" he cried. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.

"Harry, come on, I thought you – "

"No, Malfoy, I didn't _want_ it!" Harry snarled.

Draco's face turned ashen as Harry called him by his surname, it reminded him of their previous years, and he understood with total clarity that he had phenomenally fucked up.

Harry leapt off the couch, putting distance between he and the blonde boy. He pulled at his hair, almost hysterically, looking quite demented. He breathed harshly through his nose, reminding himself that this was Draco, Draco whom he had been dating for a few weeks, Draco who didn't know anything, but Draco who had just broken his golden condition.

He looked at Draco a little sadly. "I should go. I need to think."

Harry turned abruptly and very nearly fled the room, his head was a mess. It wasn't as if Draco was like Uncle Vernon, he was different. He just didn't understand. If he... no. He wouldn't tell him. He wouldn't tell anyone. Ever.

Harry felt a rush of guilt run through him, almost like an electric shock. He had just walked out on Draco. What if he was angry? What if he didn't like Harry anymore? He had to accept the inevitability that because of what had just happened, this thing with Draco would probably be at an end.

But really, he mused, it was better now than later, when later he might have come to care for Draco. That could never happen, because Harry knew Draco would never want to be with him if he ever found out how _dirty_ Harry was. Yes. It was better this way.

Then again, Harry didn't understand why Draco had done what Harry had expressly told him not to do. He had told him he wasn't ready. Was it because Draco knew, deep down, that Harry was nothing but a freak, a _whore_?

Draco wasn't like Uncle Vernon. He wasn't.

He found himself staring blindly at the Fat Lady, unaware that she had asked for the password several times. He muttered it quickly.

– _Horrible pudgy hands kneaded into his shoulder blades, pinching at the skin, gripping it like it was a handle, forming deep purple bruises – _

Harry marched through the common room, desperate to reach his goal. He needed to get the hands _off_.

Up the stairs, through the boy's dorm, reach the showers. Lock the cubicle door. His body was shaking now, and his hands fumbled as he pulled his robes over his head. He ripped at his tie, ripped half the buttons off his shirt. Trousers off. Pants off.

Shower on, cold, cold.

Once in, now shivering in the freezing water and trembling from his own volition, he crouched low in the shower and grabbed at his wet hair, pulling brutally. A low whine escaped his lips as he rocked there.

He grasped a brush and started scrubbing.

Harry started at his legs, scrubbing until they were raw and bleeding in a few places. He moved upwards to his torso, and he desperately scratched at his back. He was sure he was missing places, the need to be clean wasn't going away. His arms, his neck, his _cock_.

Harry scrubbed urgently at his cock, the dirt had definitely settled there, there was so much of it.

He stood motionless under the freezing spray for a moment, panting slightly.

Then he started again. He always needed to scrub twice when he felt dirty, he didn't understand it. Somehow, scrubbing that second time seemed to cleanse him of dirt better than the first scrub. He didn't know how he knew it, but he accepted it.

Eventually, Harry decided he was clean all over, and scrubbed all over twice.

He knew he was bleeding, the cold water stung. The self-disgust rose up in his throat, and he vomited abruptly. He wiped his mouth and turned up the hot water. Harry grimaced. He was developing a throbbing headache to go along with the rest of his aches and pains.

There was a pounding against the bathroom door, and Harry jumped in his locked cubicle.

"You right in there, mate? You've been there a while," came Seamus' voice.

Harry cleared his throat before answering. "Er, yeah, I just felt like a soak, get warm you know!" he called back. He didn't bother to listen for the response. His almost trance-like state broken, he hurriedly turned off the shower, towelled off and delicately pulled on his clothes, wincing at the rough texture.

He re-entered his dorm to discover all his roommates waiting for him curiously, even Ron was looking at him oddly.

"What?"

"You wanna play a game of Exploding Snap? Me mam sent me the Wizarding Wheezes version," Seamus offered.

Harry frowned at him, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. He deliberately didn't look at Ron, he knew Ron knew something was off. "Nah," he said lightly, turning around. "I was going to head out for a walk anyway."

"It's past curfew Harry," Ron called to his back. Harry turned back around and smiled. He ambled over to his trunk, rummaging around until he found his cloak, hidden at the bottom. He tucked it discreetly under his robes; Neville, Dean and Seamus still didn't know of its existence.

With a cursory wave, he left.

Once out of Gryffindor Tower, he threw his Invisibility Cloak over his head, and wandered off.

Hermione found him at dawn on the Astronomy Tower and sighed in relief.

Harry didn't look distressed, he wasn't cold and shaking. He looked content and warm, as charms protected him from the weather. If anything, he only looked tired.

With a nudge of her foot, Harry moved over, and she sat next to him, sharing the heat of his Warming Spell and the insulation of his cloak.

"How did you find me?" he grumbled.

Hermione gave him a look. "Harry, it's very obvious where you hide the Marauder's Map. Honestly, you're lucky we're the only ones who know how to use it. We figured we'd give you a few hours before we hit panic mode."

When Harry didn't respond, she pressed on. "Ron was ranting around the Common Room, he seemed to believe Malfoy had done something to you..."

Harry didn't respond, he didn't feel like making it easy for her.

"It wasn't him, was it."

Harry winced. Trust Hermione to nip it in the bud.

"What did you do to Ron, then?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Hermione merely raised an eyebrow at him, but she did answer. "I stunned him. He was making too much noise."

She grasped his hand and leant against him, letting the silence reign.

Harry mentally cursed Hermione and her stupid intuitive smartness, how she always knew when to talk and when not to, when to offer advice, when to hug, when to not ask questions. Because she always seemed to already know the answer.

* * *

><p>Please read and review!<p>

Also, I have a question. I'm Australian, so my culture is a rough mix of American and British language/phrases/expressions. In your opinions, am I using the right phrases and contexts and things to make it sound British?

I know some authors don't make changes like that, but Harry Potter is British, and to me it's very important that it stays that way.


	6. The Truth  Kind Of

A/N: Sorry for the delay. My mum has decided she wants to do some "spring cleaning." In the summer.

* * *

><p>Hermione took Harry back to Gryffindor Tower just before they expected everyone to be awake, and helped him sneak into his dorm. At the door, she told him firmly to go to sleep, that she would deal with the teachers and take notes for him when needed, despite Harry's protests. She wordlessly handed him a vial of Dreamless Sleep before she departed.<p>

The first thing Draco noticed that morning was that Harry wasn't at breakfast. He could see Granger occasionally shooting him worried glances, but he could easily see that she was not worried about Harry's absence. Draco didn't know what to make of that. He also noticed that the Weasel was looking particularly sour, especially at Granger. He decided that Harry must have just slept in, despite their rough parting the night before.

When Harry didn't turn up to Transfiguration, Draco definitely became suspicious, even a tiny bit worried. Had Harry reacted that badly? Admittedly, yes, he had told Draco before that he wanted to go slow, but he could have sworn Harry was just as aroused as he was, at least until Draco saw the fear.

He was still hopeful that Harry would be in Defence Against The Dark Arts after lunch, but he was quickly resigned as Granger and Weasley walked in by themselves, Weasley still looking miffed about something Draco didn't care about.

In Potions, Draco began developing a plan. He needed to see Harry. Therefore, after classes were over, he would check the Hospital Wing. If he wasn't there, Draco would find the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, and hang around until someone let him in.

In the end, however, none of his extensive planning was needed.

"Malfoy! Hey, Malfoy!"

He pivoted on the heel of his foot in mid-stride, and came face to face with a breathless Granger and a resigned-looking Weasley. He raised an elegant brow.

"We need to talk to you," said Granger, sounding determined.

"We're talking right now," Draco drawled, determined to keep up his front.

Weasley scowled. "Somewhere private, you prat."

Granger rolled her eyes and pushed the two boys through a tapestry, where a dark room was hidden, lit only by a few candles.

"What's this about then? I do have to eat you know," said Malfoy, pointedly looking at his watch. He did it deliberately, just to see Weasley scowl.

Granger took a deep breath, but before she could say anything, Weasley leant over and muttered in her ear.

Draco caught snippets of "... Harry will kill us if he ever finds out!" and "Don't you dare stop me Ronald Weasley!"

"If I'm interrupting a lover's brawl I think I'll take my leave," he drawled, edging towards the door. In truth, he was intrigued. What could be so bad that Harry would kill them for telling? Did he want to know?

The two broke off at his words and flushed. Granger shot a look at Weasley, and this time he stayed silent, a look of dismay and betrayal on his face.

Granger faced him. "First of all, Malfoy, I need to know how serious you are about Harry."

Draco sighed. He should have known he was getting the 'harm the best friend and we'll kill you' talk.

He considered his options. He could give a non-answer, or he could somehow lie. On the other hand, Granger was known to be deadly with a wand. He decided he needed to be honest if he wanted to keep certain body parts.

He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, almost protectively. "I don't know what happened after last night."

"We know," said Granger patiently. "But what are you going to do about it?"

Draco panicked for a moment. "Wait, do you know what actually happened last night?"

Granger snorted. "Of course not. Do you really think Harry would tell us?"

"Touché," murmured Draco, before he realised they were still waiting for him to respond. "I want to see how this goes," he said slowly. "It's not some sort of prank or joke, I don't intend to publicly humiliate him, and I want to see how far we can get."

Granger nodded, apparently satisfied. Weasley still had an ugly look on his face, but then, Draco supposed, that was how he always looked in Draco's presence.

Granger looked nervously at her counterpart, obviously at a loss as to what to say next. Draco broke the silence.

"Where's Harry?"

"He's asleep, I gave him some Dreamless Sleep, so he should be knocked out for another three hours at least."

Draco frowned. Why would Harry have to sleep through the day? Unless he didn't get any sleep last night... But why would he need Dreamless?

"Look, Malfoy, this isn't easy, alright?" Granger said into the darkness.

Draco scoffed, but let her continue.

"You, you need to know some things, and we need to know how serious you are about Harry."

"Granger, I already told you – "

"Yes, I know. But that was before what I'm about to tell you. What do you know about Harry's childhood?"

"About his – I don't know, he never talks about it!"

"That's the point, Malfoy," Weasley finally growled. Granger shot him a look.

"Exactly, Malfoy. What do you know about his family?" she pressed.

Draco frowned in confusion. He had no idea where this was going. "They're muggles?"

Granger rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Malfoy, haven't you ever wondered what his family is like? Or at least why he doesn't talk about him?"

Draco stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"They abused him, Draco. For all of his life," said Granger softly.

If he hadn't already been staring at her, his jaw probably would have dropped in shock. Malfoy's did not do dropped jaws. "I don't understand," was the diplomatic stance he came up with.

"Malfoy, how were you punished as a child?" she asked.

"I don't know, I would have a toy taken away or something. What's that got to do with Harry?"

"Everything, Malfoy. Look, we don't know much, it took long enough to get this much out of him. If Harry failed to complete a chore, he would be beaten and then thrown into the cupboard under the stairs for a week without food."

"What? But that's barbaric!" Draco exclaimed, mouth agape. "You expect me to believe that Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, was abused and beaten as a child?"

"Yeah, Malfoy, we do," growled Weasley, stepping forwards in front of Hermione. He ran a hand through his orange hair, and Draco repressed a shudder. Weasley reluctantly continued. "Malfoy, if you don't believe us, if you're serious about him, there's a scar."

Granger looked anxiously at Draco, waiting for his reaction. When he gave none, Weasley persisted. "On his lower back, just below the waistline, there's a scar. I've only seen it in the Quidditch showers, I don't think he knows I've seen it."

"So, lots of people have scars, Weasley."

Weasley looked at him intensely, and Draco met the gaze.

"He has the word "FREAK" carved into his skin."

For the second time in five minutes, Draco felt like his jaw would drop. "What?" he finally whispered.

Granger jumped back in then, giving Draco a moment to absorb the impact of the statement. "He has a word carved into his back, his bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs until he was 11. He cooked, cleaned, could do any manner of chores by the time he was seven. When he got his own room before Hogwarts, they put bars on the window, padlocks on the door and a catflap at the bottom. Every year he comes back to Hogwarts he's quiet and subdued, and we have reason to believe it's still happening."

Draco stumbled backwards until he found a wall to lean against, something to hold him up. His hands scrabbled weakly against the smooth wall, searching for something to grip.

Granger followed him. "_Draco_, we're telling you this because we love Harry. You need to understand what you're dealing with."

Draco started at the use of his name, but he didn't say anything.

"He may seem strong and independent on the outside, but Draco, he's so broken." Granger broke off in a whisper, as if just saying the words hurt. Weasley wrapped a comforting arm around her, and Draco just stared at the arm like it would suddenly turn into an elephant and start tap-dancing.

Just as suddenly, Granger was all business-like again. "So, Draco," she said brusquely, "If you can't deal with Harry anymore, I will obliviate you. You'll go back to normal, you'll forget about each other. If you still want to be a part of his life, I suggest you do some thinking, so you can get over whatever it is that happened last night."

"Don't obliviate me!" cried Draco, interrupted from his thoughts. Erase everything he and Harry had created? After five years of hatred and pain? Draco didn't think so.

"All right, then I think we're done here," said Granger primly, and she held out her hand. Beside her, Weasley made a strange noise.

Draco contemplated the hand for a moment as it wavered in the air. He took it slowly, meeting Granger's deep brown eyes in the dim room.

They understood each other.

Weasley made an odd facial expression, it looked like he was trying to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. Draco simply nodded in return.

Without another word, the two Gryffindors left Draco in the dark to think.

He exited a few minutes later, walking in the opposite direction of the two Gryffindors. He stalked back to his own Common Room, snarling the password as he approached. His housemates looked up at him as he stormed through, and hastily bent their heads as he glared around the room. An angry Malfoy was a dangerous Malfoy, they had all learnt that lesson years ago. Some of the first years even shuttled out of the room.

But Draco didn't care about any of that, couldn't be bothered to notice. What was a little fear among housemates when his heart felt like it would break from the wave of sadness and remorse that seemed to wash through him?

He made his way to the dormitory he shared with the four other Slytherin boys in his year. Satisfied to find it empty, he cast the most powerful locking charm in his repertoire, effectively sealing his dorm-mates out until he cast the counter-charm. He also cast a one-way silencing charm, so those outside couldn't hear what he was doing, while he could still hear any normal noises beyond his door.

Satisfied, Draco let out a growl and unleashed a blasting curse at a small cabinet. It exploded, sending a shower of wooden splinters and folded robes flying into the air. He spun around, blasting another cabinet. He, almost methodically, proceeded to blast anything explodable in the room. He avoided the beds because his rational side, albeit tiny, reminded his that they were much harder to repair.

Draco eventually stood in the middle of the room, chest heaving, debris covering every available surface. Still frustrated, he snarled and carelessly tossed his wand onto a bed, and sat down next to it. He put his head in his hands, fingers clenching slightly in his hair.

This new information was affecting him more than he thought it would, he realised. He just didn't _understand_. Why would anyone abuse their own blood? Sure, Voldemort had been a cold-hearted, cruel nut job, but he tortured innocent people and then murdered them. In Draco's mind, they were two different situations. Wasn't there supposed to be love amongst family?

_Muggles_, he thought disgustedly.

In the Wizarding World, family was cherished, and child abuse was considered one of the highest crimes, alongside rape and above murder. It was an almost inconceivable notion to Draco, raised in a pure blood family, with loving and doting parents.

He let his body flop backwards, his legs hanging down the side.

Was this why Harry wouldn't let him go any further? He supposed it could be, but Draco was suspicious it was something else, though what, he had no idea. It could be that Harry still didn't trust him, even though they'd been getting along so well recently.

It was obvious that Harry had never specifically confided in Weasley and Granger, even they seemed to be in the dark about a lot of Harry's life.

Draco knew, as his heart sank, that he would need to confront Harry about what he'd learned, somehow. He dreaded that moment, but he knew it would be essential, if he and Harry were to continue with their relationship.

He didn't flinch as someone began pounding on the dormitory door. "Draco! Let us the fuck in, you know you're supposed to wank in the showers!"

Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise's crassness, but didn't respond.

He turned back to the task at hand, and was almost scandalised at the next thought. Did he _want_ to continue their relationship? Did he _want_ to have a relationship with an abused and broken boy?

Draco shuddered. He wanted the relationship. He wanted to learn everything about Harry, from the curves of his body, to his horrible childhood, and every thought that passed through his mind.

He realised, with wonder, that he was willing to deal with the shitload of baggage Harry struggled under the weight of.

A wave of emotion swept through his body, much of which he didn't understand. Did Harry really mean so much to him, after such a short time?

Did Draco – wait. Did he?

Draco refused to acknowledge that train of thought, filing it away for later. He didn't _want_ to acknowledge it until he was sure.

He heard a burst of magic hit the charmed door, then a yelp. He couldn't help but chuckle. The spell he had used had a defence mechanism: if someone tried to use a simple _alohamora_, the door handle would try to bite off the offending wand hand. He wondered idly if it had.

"Damn it Malfoy!" he heard Blaise yell.

Draco exhaled slowly. His rage had largely abated, but he didn't particularly feel like fixing up the mess.

"Stand back," said another voice beyond the door, and Draco sat up in alarm. Keeping Pansy on the opposite side of a door was dangerous, to the door and to those facing Pansy's wrath, like he was. Hastily he fumbled for his wand, before jabbing it in the direction of the door and removing all his charms.

The door sprung open, revealing a determined Pansy, her wand pointed into the room. Blaise had his head poking around the corner, as did several nervous first years.

Draco scowled, and the first years disappeared, despite the fact that he was scowling at Pansy.

"What?" he snarled.

Pansy raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed.

She stepped through the doorway, eyeing the room warily, before waving her wand at the door carelessly. Blaise slipped through just before the door swung shut, lock clicking.

His two friends made their way across the room, Blaise staring blatantly with his mouth open. Pansy had more decorum, but couldn't suppress the disbelief in her eyes.

Draco stared at them sulkily, but refused to fix the room. He lifted his chin defiantly.

"One of your rages, I see?" asked Pansy, sitting tentatively on the bed opposite Draco. Blaise collapsed next to her, mindful of the splinters of wood littering the bed.

Draco refused to say anything.

With a sigh, Pansy gave another wave of her wand, and the room began reassembling itself, splinters of wood flying across the room, realigning and reforming those cabinets he had smashed. Shreds of material reformed into immaculate robes and re-folded themselves into the newly fixed draws.

He stared at her mulishly. All his hard work, fixed. Although he did notice smugly that Blaise was nursing a hand with an odd-shaped bite on it.

"Are you going to talk, then?" asked Pansy, inspecting a nail bed critically.

"No," he replied reluctantly.

"Did something happen with Potter?"

Draco looked up sharply, staring wildly at Blaise, like a child caught with its hands in the lolly jar.

Pansy cocked her head at Blaise.

The Italian boy shrugged. "I thought everyone knew about that Potion's assignment you two have."

Pansy's eyes narrowed, and shifted to look at Draco. "I don't think that's what has him so worried," she finally murmured, gaze never wavering.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," he attempted to reply loftily. He lay back down on the bed, and noted proudly at his tactical move. This way, he could avoid avoiding their eyes, and it would be easier to lie. Hopefully.

"A lover's spat, then?" asked Pansy mildly.

Or not. Draco lifted his head slightly, trying to gauge where she was going with this.

"Oh come on," she said, and gave an undignified snort. "You two are so obvious I'd wager even Snape could see it."

When Blaise looked at her, more than surprised, she quickly amended. "Alright, so I may have been the only one to notice. But if you know what to look for, it's obvious."

Draco groaned.

And suddenly, Pansy was not the aloof, sophisticated persona, she was the bouncy, girlish, gossipy girl that Draco had had the misfortune of putting up with for most of his life. She leant forwards from her dignified pose, arms resting against her knees, dark eyes sparkling.

"So, what happened? What did you do?"

"Why did you automatically assume it was me who fucked it all up?" he retorted effortlessly.

"Because you destroyed the room. If Potter had done something, you would be sulking," she replied promptly. "What happened?"

Draco considered what he should say. He obviously couldn't say anything about what Granger had told him, and therefore the true reason Harry had left. But he could give them a highly twisted version.

"I went too far," he admitted cautiously, sitting back up.

"Aw, did the ickle Gryffindor not like it rough?" teased Blaise.

"Don't," snapped Draco. He glared at Blaise something fierce, and his friend immediately clamped his lips shut, afraid of more retaliation.

Pansy looked almost bored. She knew Draco far better than he thought she did, and to her, it was obvious that he wasn't saying everything, and nor would he say anything more.

"Fix it," she shrugged.

Draco looked at her again, and it was in that instant that she understood how deeply he cared for the Gryffindor Golden Boy. He looked lost and alone and desperate. "I don't know how," he whispered eventually.

"Blaise, get out," she snapped sharply.

Blaise looked at her incredulously. He looked down nervously as Pansy tapped on her wand a soundless beat with her fingertips, almost nonchalant.

He was a Slytherin. Slytherin's saved their own skin. The door clicked open, and he scurried shut, slamming the door after him.

Draco bent his head to his hands again, refusing to look at Pansy.

"Romance him," she said eventually.

"What?" his voice was muffled, speaking though his hands.

"He's a Gryffindor. He's never been in love."

_Never _had_ love, more like,_ came a distended thought through Draco's head. He made a stifled noise, and Pansy continued.

"Send him flowers."

Draco snorted into his hands. "Send a boy flowers, really?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Merlin, Draco, you can be daft sometimes. Send him flowers that _express_ how sorry you are. Send him flowers so he _knows_ how sorry you are."

Draco looked up at last. "I don't think it's that simple, Pans."

"You never know. Besides, everyone loves getting flowers. It makes you feel special and appreciated."

He eyed her thoughtfully. "Alright then, what flowers should I send him?"

* * *

><p>Harry woke up briefly, in time for dinner, but he decided against going. He would rather stay here in his bed, delaying the moment when Draco would officially break up with him. After all, after what Harry had done, who wouldn't?<p>

The Dreamless Sleep had finally worn off, although he still felt like he could go back to sleep. He could hear the shuffling of some of his dorm-mates as they prepared to leave for dinner, but he didn't mind that none of them bothered to disturb him.

He mentally shrugged, and forced himself back to sleep. At the Dursley's, he had had much experience with getting to sleep as quickly as possible, no matter what circumstances, because he never knew when he would get the chance again.

When he woke up again, the air was considerably lighter, and he could see through a crack in his curtains, a stream of light coming from the window, indicating the next day.

With a sigh, he rolled out of bed, and prepared for a long day.

At breakfast, he noticed anxiously that Draco wasn't present. He had no idea what that meant, but he was aware of Pansy Parkinson continuously glancing his way throughout the meal.

Near the end, when Owl Post began, Harry was astonished as an unknown owl swooped in front of him, dropping off a large bunch of red and white roses. The roses had been trimmed so their stems were thornless and leafless, but the flowers themselves were beautiful and large, and smelled like Draco.

Harry stroked a rose in reverence, his eyes wide. He didn't quite understand. He had thought Draco would hate him.

He became aware of many eyes watching him, and he raised his head to glare at the hall of students. Many ducked their heads in embarrassment, but some continued to stare. Ron had an odd look on his face, something crossed between satisfaction and reluctance, and Harry noticed Ginny glaring down the table, a fork bent in her tightly clenched hand.

Hermione nudged him and gave a cough, lifting a small white card from beneath the roses. It simply had two words, written in a hand Harry was by now very familiar with.

_I'm sorry._

He grinned, and kept on grinning. He couldn't believe he hadn't ruined his chances with Draco, and he refused to let anyone take it away from him. He honestly didn't care that he had been given roses; he had always thought being given flowers was such a girly thing. Being on the receiving end made him feel giddy and happy, and he knew Draco didn't think him any less manly.

Harry was still carrying the flowers as he made his way to his first class, which unfortunately Draco didn't take. Hermione stopped him outside the room, but he spoke before she could.

"Don't you dare say 'I told you so,'" he threatened.

Hermione seemed to suppress a smile. "I wasn't going to do anything of the sort. I was merely going to suggest that you send the roses up to the tower, you can't carry them around all day."

"Of course I can!" Harry retorted.

Hermione looked at him, while Ron snorted beside him.

"Fine," Harry grumbled.

From the bunch of roses, he extracted a single white one. He lifted it to his nose, and again inhaled deeply. He shoved the bunch at Hermione, and she Banished them immediately.

Harry tucked his rose into a button hole, but it wouldn't stay. He tried a pocket.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and pointed her wand at Harry. A moment later, the rose had been woven into the very fabric of his robe, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he showed off his rose almost proudly, the flower resting close to his heart. The rose smelt like Draco, and the whiteness of the flower reminded Harry of Draco's hair, not that he would ever admit it out loud.

Pansy couldn't quite keep down the little smile that played across her lips as she saw Harry fuss over the rose, and she couldn't wait to relay it to Draco. She brushed past the three Gryffindors as if they weren't there, entering the classroom before them.

As it was, it was almost three lessons later before Harry had a chance to even see Draco. However, it was in Potions, and, under the watchful eye of Snape, he knew he wouldn't be able to say much, even if they were sitting next to each other.

Harry contented himself with wrapping his hand around Draco's briefly, under the table, before pulling it up to cut up some Salamander for their potion.

Draco smiled, one eye on the flower standing proudly on his partner's chest.

* * *

><p>Please read and review!<p>

Also, the website I visited said that white roses symbolised humility and reverence, while red roses symbolised love and respect. Please correct me if I'm wrong, or if you believe a certain flower would be more appropriate.


	7. The First Christmas

I am so, so sorry times infinity for the delay in chapter. It's been a month and a half or something. Honestly, I'm ashamed at myself. I promise you will have another chapter within a few days!

I think, to be honest, I needed a break from everything. As it is, I haven't been on my tumblr in a while, nor my Drarry rec list, which is just as horrible as not updating. So, I'm starting the wheels back into motion.

Tomorrow I have a super important job interview, so you're lucky I'm updating anyway! But if I hadn't got this chapter up, I would have procrastinated even worse.

I love you all!

* * *

><p>"Any plans for Christmas then?"<p>

Harry and Draco were yet again working on their Potions assignment together, this time carefully brewing three different variations of Polyjuice Potion, eager to test their theories. It had been silent in the dark room for the better part of the last hour, and Harry looked up at his partner, his attention diverted. He studied Draco's carefully concentrating face, eyes trained on the potion before him.

Harry shrugged. "Going to the Burrow with Ron, I'll spend Christmas there."

"Not your muggle relatives?" asked Draco, finally looking up innocently.

Draco kept his eyes wide as he noticed Harry's eyes flicker, before a smile crept onto the thin face.

"Nah, I haven't seen Mrs Weasley for a while, and she loves mothering me and feeding me fifth helpings," replied Harry. He changed the subject quickly. "So what are you doing then?"

Draco felt a twinge of annoyance at the subject change, but felt he couldn't bring it back around without arousing suspicion. "I'm going home to the manor, it will be a quiet Christmas with Mother; Father's not yet allowed visitors in Azkaban."

Harry cringed visibly. He'd forgotten Lucius Malfoy was in prison, by Harry's own hand.

Draco saw, and flapped a hand at Harry, almost disdainfully. "Don't you worry about that," he said, "it was his own fault for believing in a lunatic, it had nothing to do with you."

Harry smiled gratefully.

There was a small pop in one of the cauldrons beside Harry, and he realised he'd been neglecting his potion. He glanced over, and noticed suddenly that the potion was a fluorescent green colour, and not looking remotely like Polyjuice.

"Ahh, crap," he murmured, and began waving his wand over the potion, intending to find out what had gone wrong. Harry was sure he had followed the instructions perfectly.

The green substance again popped ominously.

Draco, curious, leant over, then pulled back with a gasp. The potion was now emitting a strong smell of sulphur, and he could feel the tendrils of gas creeping up his nose. Harry coughed, abandoning his wand waving.

Draco giggled.

Harry whipped around to look at him, and it simply made Draco laugh harder.

The potion gave a large belch, and the smell of sulphur multiplied. Harry had the foresight to cast a protection charm over the remaining two cauldrons before the wave of smell hit him, and he began to laugh as well. He fell forwards a bit, stumbling over to Draco, who was rolling around on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes.

Harry grabbed weakly at the cloth of Draco's robe, but he missed and fell on top of the other boy.

"C'mon, C'mon, we need t' get outta th' room," Harry giggled, the last of his wits still floating in his brain.

Draco let out a shriek and began rubbing his forehead on the cold floor, his arms spread out like wings.

Harry grabbed again for Draco's arm, and succeeded in latching a firm grip around the bicep. He heaved, pulling Draco behind him, even as he was getting stitches from laughing.

"Come on, pretend you're a dolphin," Harry panted to Draco. He had no idea why Draco was more affected than he was, but he suspected it could have been because Draco got a faceful of the gas before it spread around the room.

Draco released a high pitched squeak, and began kicking like a dolphin along the floor, his arm still held by Harry's.

The finally made it door, and Harry wrenched it open, hauled them both out and shut it tightly behind him. They collapsed against the wall just outside, and it was only a matter of minutes before the gas worked its way out of their systems as they inhaled the fresh air.

Harry's hand was still wrapped around Draco's arm, and he released it quickly, only to find it seized by Draco's own. Harry spoke into the silence.

"Well. It turns out that powdered root of hemlot is _not_ a good substitute for crude Antimony."

Draco snorted. "I'd say not."

* * *

><p>The train ride to King's Cross Station was little more than a week later, and Draco had still not talked properly to Harry. He knew he should, and he knew Granger knew he hadn't, but he simply could never bring himself to do it, telling himself there was never the right time. As it was, he didn't see Harry at all during the train ride, his boyfriend was locked in a compartment with his friends and – to Draco's horror – the Weaselette.<p>

Of course, no one knew about their relationship except their close friends, so it made sense. Unfortunately.

On the smoky platform, Draco managed to bump hurriedly into Harry, and disappeared off towards a secluded alcove on the station.

The Weaselette yelled in outrage, but Harry ignored her, telling Weasley he would be a few minutes, the bathroom, you see, and to tell Mum Weasley to wait.

Draco smirked as he reached the alcove, and turned to see Harry right behind him. "Goodbye kiss?" he asked, a little breathlessly.

Harry smirked back, before reaching for the nape of Draco's neck, drawing him down.

Inwardly, Draco thrilled at the contact, at Harry's confidence to instigate the kisses. He could feel Harry's trust growing stronger each day they were together, and it gave him a feeling he had never felt before, and couldn't even describe to himself.

They pulled apart reluctantly.

"I really should be going," said Harry, licking his lips.

Draco grinned, and ducked his head once more to brush Harry's lips with his own. "Merry Christmas," he whispered. His hand squeezed temporarily on its place on Harry's shoulder, before he drew back, and walked off into the hazy crowd.

Harry hurried off to find the Weasleys, and was at once confronted by a pouting Ginny. He made his excuses, but Ron just looked at him knowingly. It probably didn't help that his lips were puffy and looked thoroughly kissed, Harry thought sparingly.

Mrs Weasley exclaimed upon how thin he seemed to be ("Don't they feed you enough at Hogwarts?"), but he only rolled his eyes, it was practically her customary greeting.

At the Burrow, Ron, Harry and Ginny were automatically sat down at the table, and force fed copious amounts of food, not that Harry was complaining. He loved Mrs Weasley's cooking, it rivalled that of the elves at Hogwarts in Harry's opinion.

"Have a nice 'goodbye'?" asked Ron later that night, as he and Harry settled in his bright orange room. Harry scowled as Ron waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Would you like the details then?"

Harry smirked as Ron's face rapidly lost all colour. "Nah, I'm good mate," he said hastily.

Harry leant back on his camper bed, arms tucked behind his bed. It felt good, he mused, having no pressure, no constant threat of death that had dominated and loomed over most of his life. He may have been Harry Potter, but now he could be just Harry, boy who once saved the Wizarding World, but now lived a quiet life, finishing school and spending time with his boyfriend and friends.

"So," he asked aloud, staring at the ceiling, "asked Hermione out yet?"

In the bed next to him, Ron sat up with a splutter, literally choking on nothing but air. _"What?"_

Harry grinned, eyes still skyward.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Ron snootily, nose in the air in a poor imitation of Draco. His indigo face and even darker ears, however, lost him all credibility of the lie.

Harry snorted. "Oh, come on mate, you've been dancing around each other for years. Isn't it time you stopped pulling each other's pig tails?"

"Our what?" asked Ron, momentarily confused.

"Your – never mind." Harry waved a hand. _Purebloods_, he thought, mentally shaking his head in mock pity.

"Just ask her out..." he sighed.

Ron mumbled incoherently, and then waved his hand, turning off the lights, triggered by certain movements. Harry loved the adaptations made to usual household appliances for underage wizards. Ron rolled over, still mumbling, effectively finishing the conversation.

Harry shrugged smugly. The wheels were turning now.

He was woken early the next day as a pillow was whacked into his nose.

"Wake up you lazy sod," said a fuzzy figure with a red mop on top.

Harry groaned, squinting at the alarm clock beside his bed. It was barely eight o'clock in the morning.

"Wuzzgoinon?" he moaned into the pillow.

Another pillow whack.

"It's Christmas, git. Presents!"

Harry sat up slowly; Ron could be such a child sometimes. But then again, the small pile at the foot of Harry's camper bed _did_ look rather enticing...

Ron was already ripping into his presents; a large mess of shredded wrapping paper was slowly spreading across the room, adding to the mess and clutter already there.

Shoving his glasses onto his nose, Harry reached for the closest gift. It was from Hermione, and, unsurprisingly, it was a book.

"_Hilfigger's Healing for Halfwits,_ by Horace Hilfigger," he read aloud, shrugging. It actually sounded like a decent and interesting read, unlike some of the other things Hermione had previously gifted him with, like the disastrous homework planner that was buried at the bottom of his trunk, its pages carefully ripped out.

Ron had given him the semi-tradition of a large box of Honeydukes chocolates, and there was a Weasley jumper and home-made fudge from Mrs Weasley.

"Wicked! Thanks, Harry!" Ron exclaimed from across the room, hand already in his own box of fudge, as he unwrapped the Keepers' Gloves from Harry.

Harry grinned back as he made his way to a present labelled: "To Master, from Kreacher."

"Do you reckon it's safe?" he asked dubiously.

"I forgot you inherited him," said Ron wonderingly. "Never know 'til you open it," he added, before ripping into another present.

It was small and roundish, and Harry had no idea what it could be. He tried to unwrap it slowly and cautiously, but it seemed Kreacher had deliberately covered it with spellotape, leaving no choice for Harry but to rip it open.

He let out a yell as a fountain of maggots spewed from the package with the force of his ripping.

Ron shouted in laughter, doubling up in his maroon jumper.

Harry frantically picked at the maggots on his bed, his hair, wherever else they landed, before chucking them at Ron. Ron's laughter quickly changed to horror, and they were both soon searching for the last of the maggots.

Eventually, the maggots were carefully wrapped back inside their container, and Harry only had a few presents left. There was a customary amount of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a penknife from Remus, some more sweets from his dormmates.

Unfortunately, Ginny had also gotten him something. Harry felt guilty as he unwrapped it; he hadn't gotten her anything. Was he supposed to?

The guilt didn't last long, as a handmade Christmas card began singing.

_A lion is nary as brave as he,  
><em>_He who stopped the Dark Lord's spree,  
><em>_He's really divine,  
><em>_I wish he were mine,  
><em>_He who set the Wizarding World free._

Ron snorted. "Sounds like a poem of worship. Who sent it? I thought your fanmail couldn't get in here."

Harry gave him a look. "Your sister."

The present itself wasn't much better. It was a _Harry Potter_ _action figure._ Harry looked in revulsion as it paced the length of his hand and back, casually brushing aside his fringe every now and again, flashing the surroundings the famous scar, along with a dazzling smile. Its black cloak swished seductively in its wake, and Harry couldn't help but think it made him look stuck up and cocky.

He quickly stuffed it back into the box, vowing never to open it again.

"You'll have to tell her soon," said Ron.

"I know," said Harry glumly. "I'll do it before we go back."

"Good," said Ron, seemingly satisfied. "Now open your last one. I'm hungry."

"You always are," Harry rolled his eyes, but nonetheless moved towards the final package.

Harry knew, instantly, that it was from Draco, especially from the deliberately silver and green wrapping paper. It was small and square-like, roughly about the size of his fist, it didn't rattle or make any sort of noise.

"Hurry up," Ron moaned.

Harry delicately pulled at the corners of the paper. Eventually he revealed a neat box, like one used for jewellery. His eyes narrowed.

Inside, however, was a beautiful necklace, accompanied by Draco's note.

_Harry – _

_This is a Praesidio Necklace. The very fabric of the silver is interwoven with protective enchantments, and it can repel up to medium hexes, curses and jinxes. It can detect most poisons, and it warms when used. It can even repel minor natural illnesses and heal minor wounds, if given enough leeway. It is also a portkey, however only to be used in dire situations. Simply press a strand of your hair to the plate to activate its recognition code._

_Love,_

_Draco._

Harry stared at the necklace in wonderment. Looking at it, the silver did not actually look silver. It glistened and gleamed, its surface a pattern of swirling spells in a pearlescent sheen. It had a thick chain, not a dainty, tiny chain used commonly on a girl's pendant necklace. At the centre, where Harry presumed it would rest on his chest, was a large silver plate about the size of the first knuckle on his thumb. It seemed to shine with the interwoven spells and was warm to the touch.

Curiously, Harry plucked a hair and placed it on the plate, watching as it sunk into the surface and disappeared.

"What is it?"

"A Praesidio Necklace," Harry murmured, awestruck.

"Merlin," Ron whispered. "Those are really rare."

Harry hummed in agreement, too lost for words.

"What did you give him then? Harry?" prodded Ron when Harry didn't answer.

"A tie pin inlaid with protective enchantments..."

Ron snorted. "You _would_ think alike."

Harry reached up and did the clasp of the necklace behind his head. He was pleased to note that the chain seemed to melt in the dark recesses of his shirt, blending in as if deliberately not standing out.

They headed down the stairs, following the wafting smell of a Weasley breakfast. Ginny was waiting for them at the bottom the stairs, wearing a tight singlet and short, _short_ pyjama shorts.

"Hey Harry," said Ginny, her lashes lowered as a smile curved her lips. "Did you like my present?"

Harry's grin was a little strained. "Er, yeah. Yeah, I especially liked the poem. Oh, is that..." he trailed off as he searched for an excuse, then quickly ducked around her to get to the table laden with food.

Ron sighed.

Lunch that day was a small affair, and to Harry, it was perfect, excluding the absence of a certain blonde haired boyfriend. Bill was there, with his fiancée, Fleur Delacour, to Harry's surprise.

"Ahh, 'Arry!" she exclaimed, brushing her lips on either side of Harry's face. " 'Ow long eet 'as been!"

"Er, yeah," muttered Harry, uncomfortably aware of holes being drilled into the back of his head.

"I was just saying to Bill ze uzzer day, eet 'as been almost two years since ze Triwizard Tournament! And 'ow you 'ave grown!"

She pinched his cheek in a familiar manner, and Harry couldn't help the scowl that formed.

Percy wasn't there, but he sent his regards, which, Harry supposed, was much better than the previous Christmas.

Fred and George arrived later in the day, apologising loudly and profusely, but were still served large helpings of their mum's delicious roasted turkey. Harry thought he could understand why they were late. If he narrowed his eyes, it looked like George had a hunchback. He spent much of the afternoon turning his head this way and that, squinting his eyes, but the hunchback seemed to fade out of focus every time he looked directly at it.

Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and Harry were seated in the lounge room, finishing off the last of the mince pies, while the adults were talking in the kitchen. Sick of trying so hard to not look at George's back, Harry finally asked.

"Oh," said George, looking embarrassed, "You're not supposed to see that."

"What is it?" asked Ron curiously.

"Our experiment went wrong," said Fred quite cheerfully, obviously thankful it was not he with the hunchback.

"What were you trying to do?" asked Harry.

"Grow wings," George grumbled. "Only – "

"He grew a hunchback instead, and we've been trying to get rid of it for a week," finished Fred, grinning.

Ron snorted.

"How come I could see it then?" said Harry, narrowing his eyes at George's shoulders.

George sighed. "We glamoured it, you're not supposed to be able to see through it. How can you see it then?"

Harry shrugged. "I can really only see it if I squint, or turn my head, or not look directly at it."

"Now, you're really not supposed to be able to do that," said Fred seriously. "It's a third grade glamour, hides the biggest bumps to the smallest dots."

Harry scowled. "Who says?"

"The Ministry?"

"And you trust the Ministry because..."

"Just because you get plastered across the papers every other day and spent a year being slandered for telling the truth doesn't mean they can't classify spells properly," said George, nodding his head in a final manner.

"Whatever..." said Harry, opting to end the conversation. He fiddled with his new necklace, the chain always warm against his chest. Unfortunately, he drew attention.

"What's that then?" asked Fred.

"A gift?" said George.

"From a friend?"

"An admirer?"

"A lover!"

"Neither!" snapped Harry, letting the chain fall back beneath his collar.

"Oh Gred, I think we hit a sore spot!" crowed George.

"I think we did, Forgey!"

"Who's it from then? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?"

"Piss off," muttered Harry. Yet again, he was acutely aware of Ginny staring at him. He didn't want to see her expression.

"Lay off him," Ron yawned.

George pounced. "Ahh, so Ickle Ronniekins knows, does he?"

"Tell us, Ron, tell us!"

"Yeah, tell us, Ron, pwetty pwease?" George simpered, fluttering his eyelashes obscenely.

Harry leapt up from his chair. "Time to go Ron, yeah? Go do that thing... with stuff... your room?"

Ron stretched lazily, his long limbs overflowing the small armchair. "Sure mate," and he lumbered after his friend.

In Ron's room, Harry resolutely opened the book on Healing from Hermione. The first section contained detailed descriptions of spells to heal or manner of ailments, with wand movements, incantations, and uses of the spell. The second section described the ingredients and processes to making potions and creams to be used for the common cold to broken bones and bruises.

"Nothing from the Dursleys then?" asked Ron into the silence.

"Nope," Harry replied after a moment, "not even a tissue or a coat hanger. Real letdown, that is."

* * *

><p>They spent the rest of break relaxing, putting off their homework, or playing Quidditch in the secluded field out back, if the weather permitted. Out at the Burrow, it was easy to pretend that this was the life, no drama, no pressure, no fanmail, and Harry didn't read <em>The Prophet,<em> so it was easy to pretend he was normal. Though he did miss Draco.

He was also aware of Ginny constantly trailing after he and Ron, and that the end of the break was fast approaching. When he asked Ron for advice, he was simply told to "grow a pair. You defeated You Know Who and you can't even tell a girl you're gay. Grow a pair, mate."

So, grow a pair Harry did. He found her one day, her back to him, de-gnoming the garden in between snowstorms, the sun out for once.

"Ginny," he started.

She turned around to him, a wide smile splitting her face. "Harry," she said warmly.

Harry suppressed a shudder. Since the start of holidays, Ginny had taken to wearing as little clothes as possible, tight, low-cut, anything to get Harry's attention. Even now, he was surprised she wasn't getting frostbite on certain extremities.

He sat down on a tree stump, clearing it of snow. She knelt down next to him, a hand on his knee.

"Ginny," he said again.

She smiled encouragingly, obviously believing she was about to hear her childhood dream come true.

"I've er, well I've noticed how much attention you've been giving me lately..."

Her smile widened.

"And, and I appreciate it loads and all, but... Ginny I'm gay," he said in a rush.

Her smile dropped off. "Are you sure?" she asked, frowning.

"What? Yeah of course I'm sure. I've got a boyfriend, actually... he's, he's definitely something!"

Her eyes met his, wide and swimming with unshed tears. "You're gay?" she finally whispered.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

Ginny removed her hand from his knee. "You – how could you – why..."

She stood up abruptly. "I made such a fool of myself!"

He shrugged again, and was therefore unprepared as a palm swung towards him.

Ginny's slap reverberated around the quiet yard, and Harry froze.

"You bloody worthless piece of male scumbag!"

She stormed back into the house, but Harry didn't notice, the sting in his cheek seeping into his subconscious like black, poisonous tar.

_Worthless... piece of shit! ... nasty queer..._

The stump was where Ron found him a little while later, shivering from the cold.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped, forced out of memories, as he turned to his friend.

"Ron," he said, wetting his lips.

"How'd it go then?" asked Ron cautiously, sitting down on the snowy ground.

"She slapped me," said Harry. He tried to smile wryly, but he didn't think Ron fell for it.

Ron cursed. "Always for the dramatics, she is."

Harry laughed weakly. "She called me a worthless piece of male scumbag. I think I'm lucky I didn't get hexed!"

"True," said Ron, nodding. "Wanna come inside then? You look frozen..."

"Frozen. Yeah." Harry bobbed his head rapidly, still trying to keep up with the conversation.

Ron stood, wiping the melting snow from his bottom. He offered a hand to Harry, and pulled up his friend by his thin, numb wrist. He fumed. Of all the things he had expected his sister to do, it was not a slapping. Of all the things Harry needed right now, it was not a slapping. Ron would have a sound talking to her, despite her not knowing anything about Harry's home life. Or really, anything about him at all. He would just have to word it carefully.

Yeah.

* * *

><p>AN: Praesidio, roughly translated, means _protect_ in Latin. Just so you know.

Also, just because I didn't have Sirius' will anywhere in my story, doesn't mean it didn't happen. I started my story with the term, remember, not the summer holidays. Seriously, Harry not inherit from Sirius? Are you insane?

Please read and review!


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